


Not everything gold glitters

by othersin



Series: PharaohVerse [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Egypt, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Ancient Egypt, Breasts, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), Ecto-Vagina (Undertale), Father/Son Incest, Fellcest - Freeform, Fontcest, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Parent/Child Incest, Underfell Grillby, Underfell Papyrus, Underfell Sans, ecto-breasts, some edgeberry, underfell gaster - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 44,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8028394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/othersin/pseuds/othersin
Summary: Sans is the consort of the pharaoh, Gaster - displeased with his way of life but finding that he has caught the wondering eye of the new General Papyrus. How long will they be able to keep their illicit affair a secret?pharaohverse fanart and other undertale stuff found at:otherangela.tumblr.com





	1. Chapter 1

 this was a idea that has been festering in my brain for the last couple of days.

* * *

‘This is a grand celebration!’ Gaster bellowed at the large gathering of monsters, his fine silks and linens made up his pleated white robe with an ornate golden sash that trailed behind him. It dragged between his bleached white femurs and woven sandals, bejewelled and glinting in the sunlight that streamed through the palace pillars into the buffet hall. Gaster the Elder, the pharaoh of this mostly sun bleached realm, the ruler raised a glass in cheers to his audience. The noble monsters all clung to each and every word of the pharaoh – drinking, being merry, and watching exotic dancers with ribbons twirling and dancing. They feasted on the many delicacies – sickly sweet dates, honey cakes and frothy beer and heavy, thick wine that made the laughter ring out in the marble hall.

The elderly skeleton strutted proud and strong - like a cock or a peacock getting ready to pick a hen as his prize, ogling far too long to be decent at the small rounded beasts and chests of the performers as they danced around him.

 He was  listening to compliments and worship from his court, his ego growing (as well as among other things) with each passing second –  far too busy with his audience to see at the ornate table  the smaller skeleton he abandoned, drumming his fingers against the table in a steady beat.

The young royal should be used to this, Sans should be used to how his pharaoh treated him.

The finely dressed skeleton would’ve sat on the left of the Pharaoh, on a cushion and on a large woven rug, he should’ve been sharing this delicious spread in fount of him but instead being left alone and trying to drink away the image of the drunken fool dancing with the entertainment. Sans was trying desperately not to drop his smile, though mouth twitching a little when the pharaoh began to dance playfully and grope some of the young ribbon dancers and performers.

The young royal stared at the bare chests and almost sheer costumes – forcing his eye line to stare into his crimson wine instead, choosing to take a long drink but still trying to hold back the bile beginning to build up. The consort was almost getting used to this feeling – being in a crowd though being so entirely alone.

According to the subjects of their kingdom, the pharaoh and his consort, made quite a pair – and as Sans was the pharaoh’s chief consort had a higher authority next to the pharaoh.Sans was expected to be at his pharaoh’s side at such an occasion but for once Sans, wished Grillby - the pharaohs second consort was here in his place. The slightly older, flame monster had a higher threshold to the pharaohs antics than Sans did but was still recovering from last nights over indulgence.

Sans nursed his bowl of wine – gently closing his sockets, letting the sound fade to nothing…almost. The cushion he sat on by the short table sunk down as his pharaoh joined him, laughing drunkenly by Sans’s side. Sans tried not to cringe.

‘This jubilee is a grand celebration is it not?’  Gaster huffed out with breathless laughter, reaching for a honey cake from across Sans – much to the others annoyance.

‘It is very grand, my pharaoh.’ Sans muttered stiffly, the servant coming around with a jug of wine and filling up his bowl to the brim. Sans had to keep in mind the servants’ face, to give the other a personal thank you for dimming down this night. Sans could get though this night if the wine flowed freely

Gaster took a sip of his own ruby red wine, flicking his eyes to meet his consort’s – reaching out suddenly, and gently stroking the others skull in drunken affection. Sans turned to the other, surprise at such an open display – painfully making Sans aware at how the other treated him when he was a child, Gaster’s child, the pharaoh’s child.

Yes, as well as being a consort to Gaster – he was the others son at the same time; for the peoples need for the royal bloodline to continue its unbroken link to the gods, Gaster needed to have Sans; a direct descendent from his mother’s side to still have a claim as the peoples Pharaoh. It was common and made even more possible with Sans’s rare magic type to be able to bare and have children – monsters with high magical output could support a second soul safely then one with a low or average amount.

‘Day after day, you look more and more like your mother.’ Gaster murmured softly, longingly leaning in for a kiss – Sans turned his face away in time for the other to only place it on his cheek bone. Gaster was too drunk to notice the obvious disgust on the others face when his purple tongue leaving a wet gooey stripe on the side of Sans's face, hand crawling up Sans’s femur. Unlike Gasters own kilt, Sans was wearing something that seemed to be just a belt with a hanging, decorated pleat to cover up his bare pelvis. Sans grabbed the others hand as he felt the fingers brush at his pubis, though Sans was far too sober to even react in pleasure to the uneven and probing touches. 

‘My pharaoh, perhaps save that for tonight.’ Sans said with a low whisper and half-mast eyes – the unspoken (fake) promise seemed to appease the drunken ruler for now.

Sans pulled away, hiding his expression in his bowl of wine – Gaster pulled his hand away and licked his teeth but returning to his own wine; turning to a table which sat the royal guards.

‘What do you think of the new recruits?’ Gaster slurred, grinning cockily.

‘General Arial would not have chosen fools.’ Sans said proudly thankful of the distraction to a part of politics that Sans had an interest in - the working of the military had been a conversation he enjoyed with General Arial, uncle by marriage of Sans's now deceased aunt. Sans tried to ignore the others drool dripping down his face – grabbing a nearby servant’s attention that offered some linen to clean his skull. Gaster’s face darkened at the mention of the military leader muttering,

‘Yes, let’s hope his son doesn’t take over Arial’s foolishness.’ Gaster took another gulp of wine, but finally getting Sans interest.

‘You retired General Ariel? ’ Sans asked, in which the other nodded stupidly not looking away from the dancers - Sans felt himself tremble in rage at the thought of one of his few confidants in the court sent away, and by the order of the pharaoh no less – General Arial was his former uncle by marriage - relation is his mother’s sister had wed the general, though the general had remarried after Sans’s aunts death during childbirth.

Much to the ire of his new wife, he remained a good friend to the royal consort out of respect for his first wife. And so, Gaster was immensely jealous of the respect his general seemed to shower on his consort and Helvetica when she was still with the living, taking immense delight when it was announced that the general would remarry, giving his blessing to the new couple with gold and farm land of their own. But it was just a way to remove a powerful family out of his court, without inciting the ire from the army

It was no secret that Gaster feared and loved the military equally with a passion – Sans was certain that the pharaoh was concerned that General Arial would lead a revolt against him and secure his position as pharaoh with Sans by his side. Had Arial’s new wife not have the general under her finger, it could have very well been General Arial sitting beside Sans for this party – Sans wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that, but surely he would be with a monster that at least didn’t just treat him like a toy that a child would sometimes forget about but then come crying back to.

‘Your family has enough allies – it doesn’t hurt to lose one in court.’ Gaster snapped back, standing with a wobble and returning to the party – escaping his consort’s ire and building fury.

Sans turned to one of his servants who were standing on the standby with wine and a large feathered fan, a rabbit monster flinching at the harsh look – walking forward and kneeling down, beside the fuming skeleton; gold and jewels shining as brightly as his eyes.

‘Yes, chief consort?’ She stuttered out.

‘Where is the General’s replacement?’  Sans hissed lowly, he didn’t know this monster and Sans did not appreciate the power Gaster seemed to think he had over him by throwing out powerful members he had connections with – his mother wedding Gaster was an mistake and Sans knew his grandparents would be rolling in their tomb. And if that made Sans very existence a mistake, than let it be so.

‘By the soldiers table, sire.’ The rabbit then with a trembling finger pointed to the rowdiest table of them all in the feasting hall.

 Sans’s eyes lingered on the odd one out with a curious glance – the new General seemed to be a dead ringer for Arial but a lot younger, he was looking like he was enjoying this party as much as Sans was – getting tangled in a dancers ribbon as the scantily clad monsters twirled and danced out of the grabby hands of the soldiers. The general looked ready to snap at the dancers to leave them alone – but perhaps staying silent out of polite decorum.

  The general was tall, dark and handsome in an off white, linen kilt, the wide pleat beaded reservedly with gold – with a plain cloth headdress with a gold band and a beaded and jewelled necklace and cuffs – sitting cross legged with the new pleated kilt and scowling with his jagged mouth and scarred socket. He was looking unimpressed at the rowdiness of the other guards, the soldiers he had to whip into shape were not making the best first impression – Sans had a niggling feeling that the pharaoh had purposefully given him a difficult set to train because of Arial being the others father; the likeness would’ve set Gaster on edge.

Sans stared in interest, but the young general felt the burning gaze of someone on him – turned to stare deeply at the sitting royal. Sans felt a flush overcome him and eyes widening, soul beat seemed to resound loudly in his skull and almost stopped – the smug bastard winked at him.

Sans stood up suddenly about to tell the impertinent fool off, but knocking into the unseen wine bearing servant that went to serve another glass for him – drenching his robes in a crimson red, stunned and the poor wine server looked ready to die at what she had done; slowly taking a step back and smashing the jug on the ground. The pharaoh and the whole court noticed, at first stunned silence only to be broken by the Pharaoh’s loud laughter which allowed the other courtiers to join in on in the merriment. Because if the king was laughing first, it meant that the royal consort wouldn’t be able to kill them all or banish them.

 Embarrassed and furious made Sans almost slip on his sandals, sodden and soaked in wine – snarling, he undid his sandals and threw the offending items out on the marble ground, turning on his bare heel storming away into the deeper halls of the palace – dripping wine on the marble tiles, bones had rivulets of the sugary drink cling and dry on his bones. Feeling his face hot with a flush, and the prickling of angry tears began to build up in the corners of his sockets. The burn of the ever watchful gaze of the new general he was made a haughty, tempered fool in fount of, and that made his soul seize more than the laughter of any of Gaster's courtiers.

* * *

 

Please leave a kudos and comment if you liked it and want to see more :)


	2. Chapter 2

 

* * *

Sans had stormed into his royal chambers – his servants (not including the poor bunny that drenched the him in wine) tried to catch the ruined clothes in the angry storming of the consort, ripping off the clothes much to the distraught looks of the servant – they would never wear such fine clothes such as this in their short lifetime and seeing the expensive linen being ripped would bring a tear to any lowly servant.

 The servants, Catty and Bratty just tried to stay out of the others rampage – not keen to end up like Metatron, who was apparently found to be stealing the consort’s jewels and was thrown into prison. Whether this was true or not, but most of the servants always thought the other had too big of a mouth that yammered on – horrible rumours of the queens death and the circumstances of how quick the pharaoh seemed to wish to have Sans as an consort.

The servant census, from the bias of never experiencing palace life and never being the one being pampered, the pharaoh had spoiled his consort so the other should respect the elderly pharaoh – Sans had a grand life so he should be obedient to the king. It was many of the thoughts of the consort’s enemies – consort Grillby was far more docile, though not the pharaoh’s favourite.

 But unknown to the servants; if any would want to take San’s place, the young royal would jump at the chance and trade the silks for rags. But no one would believe him – no one would believe him that this is not what he desired, who wouldn’t want this type of life?

 Sans finally removed the last bit of his jewellery and flinging it on the ground with a clatter, in his fury rubbing his sockets to smudge the kohl lining and henna designs still staining his ivory bones – staring at Bratty and Catty.

‘Run a bath for me, a warm bath with rosemary and chamomile.’ Sans demanded, and pointed to the clothes and added a bit more gently, ‘If you can wash it, you may spilt it amongst yourselves.’

The two servant girls looked at the consort is surprised delight – Sans went to remove the last thing that kept him decent, throwing the ruined garment at his servants. Sans turned to the servants with an arched brow, and shooed them away – shaking them from being in frozen delight, both of them bowing quickly and went to get the wooden bath for Sans. Not long after, not even out of the room they started to tug and pull at the cloth – both wanting the finely beaded cloth and the glinting gold ribbon.

It was only then that Sans dropped to his knees and cried, hiccupping sobs filled the large, lonesome room – a room that had once belonged to his mother, then grandmother, and even his great-grandmother. Sans wondered if the happy tears in this chamber outweighed the sad…but only the gods would know.

 With trembling hands reaching to the top of his head which sat a glided, plumed crown with a golden disk sitting in the ivory wings. He gently removed it and stared at the reflective surface, forever reminding him of his mother and how life was in the palace while she was still alive – Gaster was a decent king and father, genuine respect and love was shared between his parents. Both were brought up in palace life, Helvetica, the eldest daughter of Sans’s grandparents and the heiress of the throne and Gaster was a much loved vizier; it was natural that a match would be made in such a way.

But without Helvetica, Gaster as pharaoh has become brash in his decisions – continued failed military campaigns may not mean much for a king who can keep building temples, cities and statues in his own image – all the while celebrating and having extravagant parties while joining the army has become a death sentence where most if not half the men come back to their families.

As Helvetica’s magic runs through Sans’s  bones, as well as the great kings that came before her – Sans had no choice in matter of waking as once a son and now awake to the title royal consort. Gaster had gifted Sans with his mother’s headdress and the rest was etched on stone.

Sans held the headdress tightly moving to a small table next to a curved wooden bed, surrounded with floaty, almost sheer curtains hanging around the bed. Staring at the polished disk on the crown and staring at his messy face and wine stained streaks on his ivory bones – but glad that the crown was saved from any of the sugary wine.

 The table had an half set up Senet board and various scrolls he was reading up on, Sans rarely played with it anymore – he did play with Arial when he was younger; he always got mad when the other let him win. Sans lay it on the table – seeing the door open a crack, turning with a grin seeing the brim of the bath push through the door with a creak.

‘Bratty, Catty about time…’ Sans began only to stare as someone very tall and very male walk into his private chambers – Sans’s soul jolted in horror and, face igniting in a vivid red blush did the only thing he could do to maintain some form of dignity; he threw himself at the hanging curtain. Trying to wrap his self in the curtain as much as he could but you could still see the faintness of his skeletal structure.

The general strode in, not looking at Sans at all who was trying to hide desperately in plain sight – placing the bath in the middle of the room, Sans could feel himself stutter out; unable to stop the unease showing in his voice,

‘This is the private chamber of the royal consort!’ Sans snapped out.

‘I know.’ The tall skeleton said with a shrug.

‘Other monsters are not allowed in here without the express permission of the pharaoh or me! I could have you killed for this.’ Sans snarled, finding his anger again. The other snorted back a laugh, shoulder shaking in myth as Sans’s ire continued to rise.

‘Would you really?’ The intruder taunted not even bothering to raise his head, though probably not out of respect for Sans – just not bothered to stare at the bare form that was considered next to god, Sans tried to push back the anger that had raised up at the thought that the other would not try and sneak a peek at his pure white bones wrapped in sheer fabric. Feeling horrified at how his soul wanted the other to stare and perhaps lust over his body – have a handsome and younger gaze on his body for once than the crawling of the pharaoh’s fingers and the slime of the others magic against his body.

Sans unclenched the fabric and strode furiously in fount of the other – anger outweighing shame,

‘You know, you’re right! I don’t care anymore – but if you have the audacity to come in uninvited, into my chambers and while I am undressed…you should have the decency to look at me without fear like a true general of war!’

The general’s jagged mouth quirked, scared socket and blazing crimson eyes flicked up to take in a view that only a god amongst monsters could gaze upon – Sans glared hotly at the general, red tinting his cheek bones.

‘Well, well – that is a sight fit for the gods.’  The general openly leered with a smirk – a look that didn’t make Sans’s marrow and magic crawl, perhaps it was only Gaster that caused that. Having the heat linger in his soul and bones with the lewd, appreciative gaze lingering on his form

‘So – fearless general, you have proven that you have the soul of your father; worthy of my attention.’ Sans huffed stepping closer – forcing his royal consort persona to push his fear, unease and…almost want as he finally realised how attractive the scarring was on the seasoned soldiers visible bones. Such broad shoulders and strong looking femurs too, a feature he undoubtedly gained from Arial.

‘It seemed a shame I wasn’t able to introduce myself during the feast…’ The solider said lightly enough, not trying to hide the fact he was no longer staring in the consort’s ruby red sockets nor how his eyes trailed down the winding henna snake – slithering, tempting the other to trail down to the others bare pelvis.

‘Oh?’ Sans said lightly, secretly enjoying the way the others eyes lingered on his vertebrae; like something delicious he wanted to sink his teeth into.

‘I am the son of Arial and my name is Papyrus…with the loss of my father in the court, he was under the impression that you were in need of an ally.’ Papyrus said lowly, causing a stiff frown to appear on Sans’s face – scoffing at the other and turning away from the other.

‘I can assure you, I do not need your help.’ Sans snapped, very prideful. Strutting very purposely away – leaving the other to stare in want at his slight build and swaying pelvis. Sans knew this was very unbecoming, parading around in fount of Papyrus like a concubine but there was something very thrilling in this game.

‘Very well, royal consort, I’ll take my leave.’ Papyrus went to leave, before exiting he placed a hard long look at the others back and whispering just loud enough for the other to hear,

‘You are wasted by the side of the old, impotent pharaoh Gaster.’ Papyrus grinned, making Sans turn sharply to the new military leader.

‘Oh, and I suppose I won’t be wasted by your side?’ Sans scoffed, rolling his eyes, 'You will have me but also the entire royal harem, I am no fool.' 

‘No, unlike the pharaoh I will not let my most beloved treasures gather dust- I’ll shine and dust them every night, and showcase them by my side constantly.’ Papyrus smirked at the smaller skeleton, Sans’s blush returned at full force as Papyrus exited as quickly as he entered- giving only a few moments to collect himself just before Catty and Bratty entered with large steaming pots of  herb filled steaming water.

‘My lord, we were unable to find – oh, the tub is here?’ Catty and Bratty stared confused at the bath that seemed to magically appear in the chamber.

Sans flushed, but climbed inside the tub with his knees to his chest – shrugging briefly at his servants questioning looks.

‘I asked for it earlier today for the morning, and must have simply forgotten to ask the servant to put it away.’ Sans stared intensely at the two girls, daring them to call out on his lie, but they only began to fill the tub with water – pouring the calming, sweet smelling water over his head. The scent of rosemary and chamomile in the water did not calm him as it should, the roiling of his magic building in his pelvis throbbed in longing – but the heat of the water was an easy explanation of his lingering blush to his servants.

* * *

 

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Sans dreamed of big, strong hands caressing his body in the cold night air, desperately meeting the thrusts from his minds partner – trying not to notice the scarring on the others bones, face hidden in shadow made it easier to pretend it is some  unknown, abstract entity. In some illusions, the painted figures on the walls seemed to inspire his fantasies; beautiful sculptures and paintings made even more unearthly in appearance than their real bodies – who wouldn’t want history and the people to remember beauty and grace?

Sans imagined the winged god with a falcon mask, raising a large brush like staff to strike down his opponent in a heated battle – the other was a dark masked figure with strings of darkness trying to desperately swarm the other. Their eyes, inlaid with jewels gleamed in the dying moonlight seemed to stare and leer at the steady rocking of the others bare pelvis, trying to find pleasure in an fantasy but the others heated loins still starving  for more.

 When he felt himself near completion but jolting awake with his own low moan – not finding any satisfaction in the vivid dream and clutching the thin fabric of a light linin cloth to cover his chest and try and offer meagre protection to the monster soul beating underneath.

Sans panted desperately in the night air, pulling himself out of bed and flinging back the netting which protected him from any annoying bugs; seating on the curved wooden be – staring at the sky that was a blanket of twinkling stars and large moon glinting, poking out from behind the high buildings and palace walls. From the royal consort’s balcony it led out into a beautiful, moon lit private garden – which Sans had enjoyed to play in while his mother sat, demurely on the stone bench.

The walls were beautiful scenes painted in vivid ochres, of scenes of farming, family life and hunting. There were images of gods and images of past pharaoh’s and their consorts too, the jasmine had started growing over his mother’s painting and making the paint chip – the gardeners did not know if he wanted to see her image staring at him…but it was more so if the Pharaoh walked in and found his past Queens steely, cold stone eyes staring out at him.

Sans pulled himself out of the bed and with those darkening thoughts walking out into the cool night air, pulling the thin linen robe tighter around him and walking out in the garden – the heavily scented jasmine, lilies, rosemary, thyme, date palms and chamomile, mint and juniper lingered in the night air.

Sans sat on the bench in the garden, trying desperately to cool down his overheating bones – glad that Gaster had not forced a drunken visit upon him, possibly in the embrace of one of the ribbon dancers with their heaving beasts and some had curling tails in the harem. Sans feared in falling asleep again and becoming set ablaze again, but at the same time longing to continue the delicious heat building in his pelvis – Sans could see the ruby red glow of his glistening entrance glowing desperately for something, hungry for actual pleasure.

Sans was a little bitter on the fact that Gaster was the first one to lay him, and Gaster was very quick to end – he tired easily and seemed to not make any move to let his consort to feel any comfort in the shared nights they had. But he was royalty, consort to the pharaoh – he just needed to bare a male heir to continue the magic line, Gaster was paranoid on the mere idea of the chance of a male heir with him, with the continued magic of royalty running through the line, and perhaps the prospect that he was getting too old was starting to grate on his mind. No longer able to even give a child was a death sentence for a pharaoh on already unstable ground with the military – Sans knew in his self it wasn’t him having problems though, it wouldn’t stop the Pharaoh’s advisers to suggest Gaster to try with Grillby instead but it didn’t stop the hurt that burned in his soul at the mere suggestion that he was barren.

Sans pushed the thought of the pharaoh out of his mind, staring at his trembling fingers and parting his legs – Sans tried not to linger on the fact that his first orgasm was by his own hand the first of many nights as consort, by curiosity of how the head of the pharaohs cock brushed briefly against a bundle of magic hidden by his folds the first night together. He could barely remember when he felt the desire to summon anything else to play with – and Gaster had forced him to summon a vagina by default for so many years now .

Sans trailed a hand down against his heated, wet folds – dripping with his excitement of from the dream. Sans pushed it in his warmth and began to part and search for the bundle of magic, finding it still engorged and hot to touch – beginning to rub at the little ectoplasmic nub, panting breathlessly on the night air. Mind slipping back onto the dream lover, imagining that the fingers were long and battle calloused – Sans felt his eyes roll to the back of his skull in pleasure, staring dazedly into the night sky.

The cool night air, whipping around his bones like cool kisses of bone against bone –sending shivers of desire through his body as he gently lowered his self to lie on the stone bench; with his legs parted.

Sans explored himself so thoroughly, baring all to the all-seeing moon in the sky – covering his sockets with his femur; almost able to pretend a tall figure between his legs was casting a shadow with the moonlight streaming around the figures shoulders. Sans desperately drove his fingers deeper in the moist heat, trying to pretend it was something longer and a large girth – Sans was moaning so desperately, like a whore no doubt.

The city under him might be hearing the echoes of his bliss in their dreams, but Sans didn’t care – the wetness flowed freely around his plunging fingers as he thrust desperately and suddenly stilling as he arched, reaching his sought after orgasm.

Quelling the warmth in his pelvis for the moment, but unable to quell the pain in his soul.

* * *

Papyrus stared up to the palace walls from his own villa to stay in – older soldiers had sat around looking uneasily at any sound of the night,

‘This is treason – what you are considering Papyrus.’ An older soldier said, tapping against the table agitated

‘What else we can do?’ Papyrus snapped back, ‘The humans are encroaching on us every day, and the Pharaoh does nothing but parties and building more and more statures for himself.’

‘The king is taxing too high, and cutting the income for the soldiers – we are unprepared for the increasing human force...we need a strong pharaoh’ Doggo nodded, eyes bandaged as he had lost his sight in the last battle. He fought along Arial and had a deep support for his former generals son.

‘The pharaoh’s willingness to allow you to be in his military is a little odd...’ a large solider huffed eyeing the other suspiciously, ‘You are the son of Arial, and child of the royal family by blood - no matter how much you deny who your mother is and though you’ve somehow convinced the pharaoh that you are not the child of Arial first wife.’

'But I suppose he thinks if the soldiers have a general they respect, they will not rise up against him.' Another snorted, showing how much he felt about it.

‘I’ve never known her, she passed away during childbirth and father had soon remarried.’ Papyrus explained stiffly, not sure how he should feel about his birth mother.

‘But she is still the sister of the pharaoh’s queen, and the mother of the chief consort.’ The soldier continued.

‘Yes, undoubtedly a ploy to catch you in treason if you rise up - to destroy you and your family…I would be careful around the consort too.’ Another warned Papyrus.

‘Don’t worry about the consort – he is no concern to us.’ Papyrus shook his head at that comment.

‘If he bears an heir to the pharaoh, you will have to kill the child Papyrus – maybe even the consort himself.’ An older voice warned, ‘Are you up to the task?’

Papyrus paused at that question, the lingering gaze from his comrades burning the back of his skull as he stared up at the imposing walls of the palace, the white stone reminding him of the creamy, white bones of the prideful consort – the blush on the others bones were like the nearing dawn.

‘I am my father’s son; I will do what I have to do.’ Papyrus said, with a clenched fist.

* * *

 

TBC 

 


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Sans was not envious of the troupe of soldiers under Papyrus’s iron fist, slipping and struggling in their training in the red, life giving mud by the long winding river. Storks and water hens wadded easily tough the sludge, snapping up little crabs and fish; the farmers were cutting the gains and the young monster children had stopped their ball game to watch the muddy soldiers due battle against the strong general.  

 The young general was asserting his authority and any slacking off was met with a harsh whip of cane against the soldier’s backs – correcting their form gruffly and continuing the training in the hot midday sun. Sans watched though concealed by the doorway, beads dangled and shifted the light against his face the mirror like water that separated the palace grounds and the white gleaming, mud brick houses of their subjects.

Sans was dressed very simply – looking like a noble monster but not dressed as a consort, he wore a thin linen long robe, split down the sides with a thin beaded belt knotted at the side; the back and fount of the robe was pinned with a bejewelled snake in each shoulder . A billowing cloak and hood gave away nothing and protected the consort from prying eyes and gossiping mouths to reach the pharaoh.

‘Your eyes are wandering…’ a like female voice snickered a little – a stout yellow lizard was busy grinding a large mortar and pestle, it was medical herbs the monster was combining.

‘Alphys don’t start with me.’ Sans snapped, looking pointedly at a servant girl wondering in with a tall pot of water – strong and a prisoner of war, a fish like monster. Alphys took a shine to the feisty creature being dragged through town snarling and screaming in an odd foreign tongue. Alphys was unwilling to see such a fine woman to be forced to a brothel or worse the pharaohs harem – and had pleaded to Sans’s mother to let the healer have her.

Undyne was part of a nomad tribe that was across by some of the pharaoh’s slave traders - a fearsome fighter that took out many of the traders but soon was overwhelmed. Sans stared at Undyne wearily, the dark and worn face of the monster has not seen the palace walls or lived in a place where you were not expected to do anything – Undyne’s hair shone like a flickering wildfire and grew long, tightly braided with mixed beads and precious stones that Alphys had gifted her. The lizard loved to spoil the blue monster – never mind that she was unseeing in one of her burning, intense eyes

Sans was impressed at how the nomad cleaned up, slowly learning how to read and write and often helping Alphys with simpler ointments and treatments.  Undyne was looked after, and Alphys even allowed the other to keep her name and her own charms and talismans were respected though had to be hidden if the other went outside.

Alphys laughed again, throwing a handful of mint – creating a fragrant, green paste.

‘Must you take this?’ Alphys hummed thoughtfully, ‘Your mother was a follower of Nephthys after all – she made certain that your pharaoh would remain impotent after you were born - all possible life was to be stolen from him on the night he made you his consort against Helvetica's wishes...a curse, sealed with her dying breath to the goddess herself.’

‘Just to be cautious.’ Sans answered back, returning his gaze to the flipping and twirling of the general as he parried and summoned attacks from the ground. One of the soldiers got too cocky and ended up toppling him, but Papyrus kicked the other back

‘She always knew that something like this could happen, she could see that your grandfathers trusted vizier changed over the years…’ Alphys muttered annoyed, Undyne began to ladle some water in the pestle to make the paste easier to drink. A loud shout sounded out from the river bank making Alphys rolling her eyes,

‘The way those monsters are roughhousing outside, I’m going to need some more healing balm and tea tree oil.’ Undyne whispered urgently to Alphys, making the lizard sigh and pick up her off white skirt – made of finer cloth than Undyne’s formless very colourful skirts and tops. Undyne took over the long process of grinding down the paste as her mentor stood next to the cool mud brick doorway where Sans sat patiently on the only chair with a cushion.

‘Every day, I always get one of those poor sods who just wasn’t quick enough.’  Alphys huffed, peaking though the beaded curtain.

‘Papyrus just wants the best from his soldiers.’ Sans huffed, jumping to the generals defence.

‘Papyrus?’ Alphys blinked at that, ‘Didn’t know you were on first name basis…’ A cat like smirk began to crawl across her scaly face.

Sans flushed and shook head defiantly, ‘I’m not, I’ve only meet him once – I am the royal consort and I can call on him by his title or name if I so choose, or i could even call him his fathers attack dog.’ Sans snapped back quickly – giving Alphys pause, only to poke the skeletons skull teasingly.

‘Perhaps though…you could forget to take it , one time…when the time is right.’ Alphys laughed, watching as the poured it in a vial - a mixture of herbs and magic that Alphys often made for monsters in unhappy marriages, feigning infertility of the husband is enough ground for divorce amongst the common people.

‘But the pharaoh is unable to give a child…oh…’ Undyne mumbled and then it dawned on her what the healer was implying – turning to the door where the proud general had pinned down all the soldiers in one fell swoop.

Sans flushed at that suggestion.

‘What?!’ Sans shouted out, a little too loudly – head hitting the back of the wall as his space was suddenly invaded by the two gushing woman, Undyne was more subdued than Alphys however.

‘If the pharaoh is so desperate for an heir, you could say the gods blessed you with one – he’ll be so overjoyed he won’t even question it.’ Alphys suggested, ignoring San’s increasing panic.

‘Alphys…’ Sans began, but was cut off.

‘And that young general would be able to give you siblings for the young prince or princess.’ Undyne added thoughtfully, nodding at the tall skeletons physic in approval.

‘Why are you-?!’ Sans flushed even more.

‘We’ll pray for a prince, but a princess we can put in pretty dresses and jewels!’ Alphys sighed wistfully.

Sans was holding his burning skull in his hands now.

‘If it is a prince the general could teach him to fight!’ Undyne pumped her fist, eyes aflame and intense.

Sans wanted Anubis to take him away by now.

‘The general is a strong monster, he’ll teach his daughters to fight too!’ Alphys nodded, Undyne agreed hardheartedly.

‘LADIES – PLEASE!’ Sans screamed out finally, skull red with embarrassment and fury – but finally making the others idle chatter stop.

‘Sorry Sans, we were just teasing.’ Alphys added lamely, Undyne bowed her head to hide her snickering.

‘Of course you were, well – I shall not keep you from your daily exploring each others skirts, so I’ll take my leave.’ Sans pulled up his cloak and a piece of almost sheer fabric across his mouth to stop any pesky bugs or sand to blow into his mouth. Both women flushed deeply at that comment – handing over the vial in a leather pouch which Sans hid away discreetly, going to pull away the beaded curtain only to stare wide eyed at the tall skeleton with the solider moaning in pain being held up by the smirking, scarred general.

‘I heard this is where a healer lives, are you the healer?’ Papyrus didn’t ask, but demanded.

Sans continued to stare stunned, soul beating harder in his chest and the world began to spin. Alphys jumped to Sans’s rescue however, though Sans didn’t like the scheme bubbling in her eyes.

‘My noble general, forgive my apprentice…he is, how I should put this…’ Alphys began, clasping her hands together.

‘As dumb as an mule.’ Undyne smirked, Sans bristled at that. Those girls are really pushing it…

‘Doesn’t know much about anything, in his head he has only room for ointments and potions – I did his family a favour by taking him on.’ Alphys gently pulled Sans away from the door to let the general in.

‘I can tell he is not all there…I merely assumed it was just my effect on him.’ Papyrus smirked, offering a hand to Sans – though Sans moved further away, feigning shyness and desperately tugging at his hood. Sans was pleading with every god he knew for the general not to recognise him – the embarrassment of the conversation from before and the potion hidden in his sleeve put him right on edge. He didn't want anyone, let alone the general in the pharaohs court see him with birth control of all things - the way the other acted put his soul on edge and want.

‘That too, my lord, I couldn’t get him to concentrate on our work at all with you training outside.’ Alphys added, cat like grin - almost like it got a large fish.

‘It was very distracting.’ Undyne said, playing along - adding to Sans's misery.

Sans was going to kill Alphys himself if he had to. A rich laugh escaped the general, the man he was helping had long since passed out from pain and hanged motionlessly in the generals strong battle worn arms – the laugh made Sans’s bones tremble and soul beat rapidly like a dragonfly wings.

‘Do forgive me for distracting your student.’ Papyrus smirked, then winked at Sans – it was too much for the poor royal, he must have upset the gods somehow; maybe it was because he took a honey cake from the offering plate for Hathor – that cow! He was five years old for goodness sake!

‘No matter – let us treat the wounds.’ Alphys directed the general to place the wounded monster on the bench as Alphys began her examination. As Papyrus began to rise up – he stopped, wincing in pain. It didn’t go unnoticed by Undyne, she soon offered her concern –

‘My general, are you injured?’

‘Not really, my bones are just aching from the training.’ Papyrus mumbled, rubbing at where his femur met his pelvis – the bone rubbed raw against bone and not given the chance to stop.

‘My student can help you with that, Undyne give him the proper ointment and send them to the garden.’ Alphys said, looking at the nasty cut on the monsters arm and began dabbing on an awful smelling paste on the weeping wound.  Alphys was the only one that didn’t seem bothered with it, Undyne looking more than happy to leave the smelly work to the other.

Sans stared in horror at Alphys, her scheme finally blossoming in his certain doom right before his eyes.

‘Oh, but I’m sure you will be needed by those who need it more.’ Papyrus began only to be cut off by Alphys,

‘No, no – we insist, the general must be always in peak physical condition.’ Undyne tutted, dragging poor Sans into the storeroom where the smell of fermented herbs were the strongest – closing the wooden door behind them and plunging them in almost darkness with the small window knocked into the wall. It was dug deep in the earth, so it was strangely cool and earthy smelling inside – protecting the medicine from the scorching heat from above.

* * *

 

‘What are you two doing?!’ Sans demanded lowly, Undyne was searching for a jar. It was a cluttered mess, so Sans had no idea how they figured out what was what – they were not proper symbols that Sans could understand or read but it seemed to work for Alphys and Undyne.

‘ We’re helping you.’ Undyne answered, pulling out a jaw but then shaking her head and putting it back.

‘How is this helping me?!’ Sans demanded roughly.

‘Maybe if you had some "exploring of kilts" with someone not your father, you would be less grumpy?’ Undyne shrugged, making a pleased sound at finding a small wax sealed pot.

‘Stay out of my sex life!’ Sans growled lowly out.

‘Then stay out of ours.’ Undyne huffed, shoving the pot in the trembling hands of the royal consort.

‘That just a balm – it’ll cool the affected area, you should know how to apply it.’ Undyne muttered, ‘It was your mother’s recipe after all.’ With so many different types on monsters, sometimes there was extra assistance needed in healing – and with that, certain types of monsters had perfected potions, spells, and ointments that would seemed to assist them more.

Sans clenched the jar a little at the thought of his mother again, steeling his nerves again as Undyne climbed up the steps and pushed open the door to the main house – Sans quickly followed to his assured doom.

* * *

sexy fun times in next chapter :)

 


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

‘General, if you’d just follow my student to the garden – very peaceful and quiet…and private.’ Alphys laughed gently, flicking her eyes to Sans who barely stopped the tremble being visible – Papyrus’s hawk like eyes probably caught up on the slight movement; smirking and following the other into the open air, large herb garden.  It was hidden away from prying eyes and with a gushing pond in the far corner, a sheet of water cascading down as a waterfall streaming into the pond – a perfect oasis or a perfect secret place for lovers to join in embrace.

Papyrus walked over to the wooden bench, an extra place to treat someone was set up a while ago because of the extra need with the wounded training soldiers - the smirking skeleton turned to his healer for this evening, standing awkwardly staring at his feet; the cloth seemed too fine for a healer however. The bitter smelling ointments would stain the fine fabric – and that would be a shame.

Sans did a light, airy tone, voice muffled under the fabric hopefully didn’t give him away,

‘Please lay on your fount…’ Sans began, though immediately remembering the guard bursting in his chambers when he was undressed – the embarrassment, the need he experienced that went unsatisfied caused the consort many sleepless nights, feeling spite rise like an coiled cobra. He just wanted to know if his dreams were close to reality…that’s all.

‘But first…remove your kilt.’ Sans tried to stay calm and professional – but as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt like breaking character and laughing. Papyrus gave pause, staring intently at the cloaked figure as the other continued, ‘the ointment needs to be put on directly where it ails you.’

‘Oh?’ Papyrus smirked, moving his hand to the knot where the linen was tried closed slowly; looping a finger to loosen the fabric – Sans bit his hidden tongue in his clenched mouth. Papyrus removed the cloth, paying no heed to the thickening red magic forming between his legs - he was not ashamed of his body and his cock was interested enough to form a little hard before the cloaked figure. Papyrus folded the kilt to place on the bench, putting it down first before climbing onto the bench; facing the running water.  Folding his arms under his head and giving the other a sidelong look.

Sans hoped the other didn’t hear the hiss that escaped Sans’s tightly clenched mouth, surprisingly his dreams were a little ‘shorter’ than in reality.

Sans stepped forward, trying desperately to ignore the others cock pressing against the folded fabric of his kilt under his pelvis – peeling the wax lid back revealed a strange but familiar smelling ointment, one that was used when was first learning how to ride a chariot...his mother held him and gently applied it. The other time he used it, he applied it himself…it was after his first night as the pharaohs consort - a night of pain and disappointment.

Sans pushed back those thoughts and tried to focus on what was on hand in present. Sans dipped his fingers into the cool cream and began to apply it to the affected area, the socket of the pelvis and femur where it joined was inflamed – the others red magic rising to the surface of the ivory bones. Papyrus let out a hiss, snapping quickly,

‘It’s cold!’

‘Sorry, it’ll warm up soon.’ Sans said, not really apologetically, ‘Keep your head down, please.’ Sans was trying to ignore his own stirring magic at the very intimate view he was graced with – it seemed odd that the other was so willing to be so easy going to show his body, it would be easy for Sans to summon a bone and stab the other…but he wouldn’t.  

Papyrus buried his head in his arms, letting out a snort at the fluster in the others voice – lights in his sockets rolling to the back of his skull at the light rubbing, the pressing of bare bone against his femurs rubbing the inlets and joints. True to the others word, the ointment was no longer cold but rather was heating up and becoming relaxing – Papyrus shifted uncomfortably, the heat of his magic seemed to mix in with whatever concoction the ointment was; cock was swelling against the fabric and pressing against the slates of the ornate wooden bed.

Sans was just massaging the cream in when a low moan escaped Papyrus and the other finally closed his sockets – Sans could no longer ignore the others throbbing desire, and stopping himself, wanting to make the other suffer for his pleasure.

‘There, all done!’ Sans pulled his hand away as though burned and ready to bolt, only to have his wrist grabbed quickly – staring at the burning eyes of the aroused general; Papyrus reached to remove the others covering of his mouth, red lined sockets stared back at the other and sweat dotting his skull.

‘How lewd, royal consort – if you wanted to see me without an kilt you could’ve just asked…’

Sans scowled with a deep blush pulling his hand away – leaving Papyrus to stare at his ruby red cock glistening in the late afternoon sun, a drop of the others seed dripped slowly down to the underside of the proud length.

‘How long did you know it was me…?’ Sans ripped his eye line away from the throbbing cock – oh gods, did he do that to the other?

‘The moment I walked in the door, has anyone told you when you are stressed you have a strong scent?’ Papyrus sighed, not caring how indecent he was to the chief consort of the pharaoh.

Sans turned to him quickly in offence – causing Papyrus to add quickly,

‘It’s just, you smell strongly of performed wax – and your hands…they are lovely being massaged with, but the other two – they would’ve been seasoned with their craft.’ Papyrus explained, causing Sans to stare at his hands – unblemished and  not chipped.

‘I use my hands!’ Sans defended irately – twisting them worriedly, like a stigma that he could never hide his magic line.

‘Oh, I know you do… with that hungry look when you stare at me, I know you use your hands a lot’ Papyrus leered, Sans scowled stomping his foot and went to turn again only to be grabbed again – they must’ve looked a fright, an aroused and completely nude monster grabbing another monster. Sans tried not to think about it, and glad the others were busy treating the other – but he could scream.

‘Don’t be cruel and leave me like this…’ Papyrus smirked. Sans flared up in fury, how the other dare demand anything of him!

‘Oh, don’t want to be left, like how you left me?!’ Sans snapped back, biting his tongue at the truth that escaped him.

‘Ah…that is why…I’ll make it up to you, right here, right now’ Papyrus quickly pressed the other against him – Sans flushing at how the cock nudged against his tailbone though the fabric, the wetness was becoming more noticeable; where the cock was pressed and Sans’s own  making a descent between his femurs.

Sans let out an embarrassing whine, Papyrus grabbing the slighter body harder – Sans pulled away, when he still could. Papyrus making grabby hands, surprised the other pulled away again

‘No! Get back on the bench…’ Sans shook his head, ‘You deserve  to suffer.’

‘Eh?’ Papyrus laughed a little.

‘ Get back on the bench…’ Sans snapped

‘No, anything we can do laying down – we can do standing up.’ Papyrus snapped back, acting like a hungry jackal that is being teased with meat – looking ready to bite in his impatience. It excited Sans more than it feared him.

‘As chief consort, I command you to lay down!’ Sans snapped.

Papyrus looked as though he was going to disobey at first – but his jagged mouth pulled into a sharp smile, bowing a little.

‘As the chief consort commands.’ Papyrus said, climbing eagerly back on the bench as Sans walked closer to the laying Papyrus carefully.

‘This is wrong – what you want from me, I can not give myself fully to you out of duty to the throne.’ Sans said to himself mostly, while slicking his hands in the bitter smelling ointment. Papyrus grinned and rocked his pelvis against the bench – shivering a little when more of the oily cream was rubbed into his bones, rubbing and touching with the sole purpose to bring the other to the brink of pleasure. Sans was rarely often in a position of power, the enjoyment he felt was matched with how the general was panting desperately and drooling on the bed – rubbing at the others spine softly. Sans wanted to wring out pleas and screams but didn’t get them from the proud solider.

‘Yet you’re here…’ Papyrus drawled, smug look cut short as Sans pressed harshly against his spine. Continuing though, ‘You could start screaming, they most certainly would trust the royal consort over me.’

‘I could, couldn’t I...?’ Sans whispered gently, thoughtfully – but unwrapped his cloak slowly

‘Yes, you could.’ Papyrus assured the other, ‘But it seems you are the one with all the moves, not me.’ Papyrus arched desperately, the ache was almost painful now.

‘I want to make us even; you left me very unsatisfied in my chamber...’ Sans added, carefully removing the potion and the cloak, ‘It’s only fitting I leave you wanting more - like how you left me.'

‘Always needs to get even...’ Papyrus smiled fondly, eyes widening a little when Sans undid the first pin in the under robes shoulder - after a moment concentration, a swell of ruby magic formed on the revealing the rib cage and a ectoplasm breast with an erect little bud. Sans climbed on top of Papyrus – straddling the others pelvis, making sure that the other keep his chest to the bench. Sans undid the other pin, lowering his chest to press the ectoplasmic softness to the others back; the fabric bunching by his pelvis still being held up by the beaded belt. Breasts flattening out as Sans pressed and continued to massage the others ribs, dragging light fingertips and rubbing in the heating ointment was a strange out of body feeling for Papyrus.

Papyrus has had other lovers - but none that would stick in his mind as much as the smaller skeleton, he could feel the heat from the others chest and how the sensitive nipples brushed against his back. Being dragged against his hard bone and with Sans letting out a low moan every time the bud was pressed in one of the gaps between his bones

The wetness of the others mound was dripping and rubbing indirectly with his tailbone with every rock against the table that Papyrus desperately tried to bring his painful pleasure to an end – Sans clutched at him desperately. Papyrus finally arched, the others nipples rubbing against his ribs was a little too much for the general, the sweet musky smell of the others arousal, the perfumed wax would linger with him in his dreams.

 Thick red strands of cum shot out of his twitching, untouched cock; ruining the others folded kilt under his pelvis.  Sans trembled above him, and body going lax – laying onto the taller skeleton, panting desperately. Papyrus rolled, quickly pinning the other under him. Papyrus smirked down at the other, Sans shifted uncomfortably in a puddle of the others release – the sharp teeth latched around the hard nipple, grasping the others breast, squeezing and kneading the pliable magical flesh making Sans moan loudly; the long tongue licked the bite mark and the worried bud.

Papyrus pulled away, ignoring the low whine from the consort – smirking down at him.

‘Chief Consort, there is something you have to know about me – I always get the last laugh, and we both know I'm not the one going to be crawling to you for more’ Papyrus pressed a skeleton kiss against the others pleasure drunk skull, retrieving his ruined kilt and leaving the other on the ruined bench.

* * *

 

Undyne and Alphys walked out to the garden area as soon as Papyrus left. Staring flushed at the heaving form, wordlessly picking up the cloak and wrapping the stunned royal consort to give the other some semblance of modesty.

‘Alphys, how long do I need to wait before the heat suppressant has completely worn off –for me to be with child?’ Sans tried to ask calmly.

‘If you do not take the one I brewed today for you? You would be fertile possibly in a week or two?’ Alphys began, thinking about it,

‘Are you going to try for an heir?’ Undyne asked gently

‘Well, it’ll be my heir... and be the bastard child of the pharaoh’

Undyne and Alphys shared an uncomfortable look, probably more so because it seemed the other had taken their joking to heart.

* * *

 

 

                                                                                                           

 

   


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

Gaster drummed his fingers irately on the senet board, startling Sans for a moment when the young royal opened his door to his personal chambers.

 ‘My pharaoh – what a delightful surprise’ Sans whole demeanour shifted easily- charming and gentle, like the gleaming sands in the wind. Dunes of his personality shifting to an easy, calm passage while the next time –shifting into dangerous, deadly slopes

‘Where were you?’ Gaster demanded harshly, eye flaring in purple magic but it seemed to quickly dim, Gaster calmed himself then – taking an deep breath, annoyance creasing his skull and scars beginning to ache. He then added a little more calmly to Sans, ‘I was worried.’ He added gently, putting the consort on edge immediately.

‘My pharaoh, I thought it was Grillby’s day today...’ Sans said calmly; though a million thoughts running through his head. Did Gaster know? Did someone see Sans outside? He was careful enough, wasn’t he?

Sans shut his chambers door, so no eavesdropping servants could loiter about. A dish of fresh, plump dates and an untouched glass of wine was sitting on the side where Sans normally sat when Gaster was in the mood for games, when he was in the mood to try and win back his consorts affections. Gaster’s own glass was already drained – some of the bread had already been eaten, crumbs and chunks of bread sat soaking up the wine; leaving a pinkish, spongy mess.

‘He is still feeling poorly – but that is beside the point. ‘Gaster waved the others question off, gold rings clinking together and beads rattling in that movement, ‘I felt like seeing you today!’ Gaster grinned, a little forcefully, watching as Sans slowly made his way to him – Sans sat cross-legged on the cushion before his narrow, colourfully tiled senet game table.

Sans couldn’t help the odd look he gave the other, idly wondering how many glasses did the other finish before Sans got back. Like usual, to place the stick pieces to the game, he threw the pieces on, setting up in the first row. Sans loved to play this with Arial and at one stage, Gaster.

‘Oh?’ Sans hummed, the other hadn’t entered with any guards to drag out his consort – so Sans relaxed just barely.

‘I just wished to see you...I know I haven’t been that considerate of you lately.’ Gaster said, making no mention of the party incident as he continued, ‘ So I hope this will show my appreciation.’

It seemed all very forced, the way Gaster was acting – like the other was trying to soften the blow.

Sans took in the spread of the fruits and wine, smiling stiffly, though he had already eaten with Alphys and Undyne – he went to pretend to take a sip of the wine, the pungent and sweet smell was familiar and unchanged it seemed. But Sans wouldn’t put it past the other to put something in it – so he didn’t drink.

‘That is very considerate of you, my Pharaoh.’ Sans smiled, Gaster didn’t seem to notice the wine not leaving the cup – but he looked distracted and on edge, strangely enough sober - as well.

A pitiful mewl had suddenly escaped from behind Gaster’s back, the older skeleton smiling reaching behind him. Sans furrowed his brow at the sound – sockets widening when a small reed basket was brought into view, something shifting and crying for its mother inside. Sans wordlessly took the basket from Gaster, the urge to free the poor thing emitting the cries overpowering his urge to deny the gift.

‘The dates and wine was only part of your gift, Sans.’ Gaster smirked, thinking that he has appeased his consort’s ire for the time being, perhaps trying to soften the blow of what else he needed to speak about. Sans was not born yesterday, he learnt from an early age that Gaster thought he could dig himself out of trouble with gifts or trinkets –  it worked as well on Helvetica as it did with Sans, the cold steely expression began to show on San’s face. Gaster tried to pretend the expression didn’t bother him, but he wouldn’t make eye contact – making idle conversation about the ornate motifs on the ceilings, and how most of them needed to be redone. A faded figure of Nut holding up the night sky, robes of stars were Sans’s favourite and painted in the very centre of the ceiling.

Sans could have refused the others pitiful bribe -but in truth, sans just didn’t want to consider what Gaster will do to it if he refused it.

Sans opened the basket, and a small skeleton curled up in a ball with a long winding tail stared at Sans with big, glowing, jade eyes. It was a kitten, a small one – though it seemed to be made from the enchanted bones of a sacrifice to Bastet, its fur and organs had been eroded away as it was mummified to the patron of cats. Its bones looked fragile and easy to break, its claws and feet unsteady as curiosity overpowered its fear – climbing out to sniff at San’s still hand.

Sans did not make a move, regretting even opening the basket – his hand was being rubbed against; the kitten was desperate for affection, Sans let out a tired sigh and began to scratch the creatures skull. Loud purrs echoed in the room, and Gaster’s face was stretched in his own satisfaction.

‘And now you have a companion to be with you in the gardens.’ Gaster began lowly, though it seemed he was saying he wouldn’t be around for their weekly visits.

‘She is a beautiful beast...’ Sans murmured gently, the cats temperament seemed to be a loving one – starved for attention and love like Sans himself, the glittering jade eyes reminded the small consort of the dangling jade from his mother’s favourite necklace. Gaster beamed happily at that comment, thinking he won the battle.

‘Seemed a shame to leave it in the catacombs with the other ones – her wide,  all knowing eyes reminds me of the patron goddess herself.’ Gaster explained with flourish, the skeletal cat did resemble the cat goddess, Bastet.

‘She reminds me of mother...’ Sans said plainly, Gaster seemed to freeze a little at that, smile dropping. Gaster grimaced a little now looking at the kitten and his consort, ‘Yes...Helvetica is and will always be a part of your soul, won’t she?’ Gaster didn’t ask for permission, but reaching over to down the glass he left out for Sans.

Sans didn’t stop him, it wasn’t like he was drinking it.

‘Isn’t mother still part of yours?’ Sans asked, Gaster did not acknowledge the baited question – but unwilling to fall into horrid silence. Gaster went to reach for a date, idly pulling the sweet flesh from the hard, stone seed – the kitten was content enough to jump off Sans’s lap and explore the spacious chambers. The small kitten was quick to start spying on a few birds on the pecking at the garden ground – beginning to practice its prowling similar to that of a lion.

‘Where were you today? I was expecting you to be in your chambers or the library.’ Gaster grumbled out.

‘I had a personal errand.’ Sans said evenly enough, Gaster searched the others face for a hint of a lie – finding none, he continued.

‘Couldn’t you send one of the servants for it?’ Gaster asked, going to pour himself another glass, the kitten was enjoying their new home – playing the beads weighing down the curtains around the wooden bed with gilded, carved steer heads on the thick posts.

‘You know why I don’t.’ Sans snapped back.

‘Yes, well that servant paid dearly for their crimes – stealing jewels and lacing your wine with poison...I took great pleasure in taking their head and the heads of their family.’ Gaster snarled out angrily – recalling that moment vividly, not furious in the fact that Sans and Grillby were almost killed by someone, but rather that an servant would betray the pharaoh like this.

‘Besides, there is a higher chance of the gods granting the prayers for those who seek them out for themselves.’ Sans lied – he had slipped out of the medicine hut and cleaned himself up in the river rubbed sweet smelling herbs and flowers from Alphys’s garden. Rolling the oily herb and fragrance on his bones, the fish and tadpoles kept him company in the tall reeds – away from prying eyes if any, his clothes were mostly unmarked, thankfully - and was folded carefully by his side on the rare, dry patch of the river bed.

 Sans was desperately trying to remove the musk of Papyrus off his bones before he quickly made his way through to the crowded streets. They were preparing for a fertility festival, the statues outside the temples were decorated with flowers and bails of wheat not threshed – the stalks, long and golden, the common monster were too distracted with the tall imposing figures made from strung up bundles being paraded around in thanks for an abundant harvest by priests, priestesses and even the farmers.

The loud chants to the sky, twirls of dancers holding the harvest of plenty with smiles on their faces

‘No. I went to the temple of Tawaret...’ Sans smiled gently, becoming so used to lying behind tightly spun smiles – though Gaster’s mood was not approving like usual at the thought of his consort trying to seek divine aid. Gaster if possible became more sombre and darkening quickly like the descending night sky.

‘...’ Gaster downed another glass of thick, red wine.

‘Alphys has given me a new medicine to try...maybe I’ll be able to hold a child.’  Sans lied gently to the pharaoh, having the other believe that Alphys was helping him was relatively easy with the yellow lizards work with the royal family – but having her loyalty sealed by Helvetica was never spoken of. As far as the pharaoh knew, the leader and general of the nomads that he captured was killed in an battle – the story the pharaoh was told that the fish like monster went to slice at Helvetica only to be struck down by Arial.

Sans went to reach out a hand to the pharaoh, only to have him flinch away.

‘Are you not glad?’

‘...I am glad you are taking this seriously now, but maybe it has come a little too late for it.’ Gaster shifted, avoiding the others gaze.

‘What do you mean?’ Sans huffed curtly, the raised tone made the kitten wonder back to them out of curiosity.

‘I’ll always adore you the most, no matter what happens’ Gaster began lowly, Sans only flashed his tightly wound smile.

‘Of course.’ Sans smiled, ‘I know that.’

‘...Grillby has been sick in the mornings, he is not sure but it is a possibility... for the next month or so to know for certain.’  ’ Gaster trailed off, pouring another generous serving of wine – making a quick move with the stick like pieces sticking out of the board.

‘Your move Sans.’ Gaster said lowly, wincing at the rattling of the pieces as Sans stood suddenly – staring down furiously at the pharaoh. Sans’s mind was reeling – that should be impossible, no life could be created by Gaster. But Gaster and Grillby didn’t know that, but surely it must be odd for Gaster to have both of his consorts not be blessed with an child. But no one would dare to suggest the pharaoh was impotent, it was easier to assume it was the consorts faults.

 ‘He could be just ill...he could be –‘Sans began harshly, panic setting in still. Thoughts of becoming obsolete, like a used broken toy - thrown to the side if the morning sickness was to do with a child growing within, the idea of that always terrified him – Sans had a stronger magic line, while not dominate for him, it was still strong! Sans came from a long line of successful pharaohs and chief consorts.  He and his direct descendants own the throne. 

‘He has never been ill like this...’ Gaster tried to placate the other, but Sans wouldn’t stop his irritated pacing. The second consort conceiving first was not uncommon but still horrid luck for the chief consort – had Gaster had his seed grow in one of the concubines  he played with, had a bastard child been born. It would have been a matter of choosing to accept the bastard heir or be rid of it and its bearer – simple and effective.

But the fact is, Grillby shouldn’t even be pregnant – unless he has lain with another. Sans ground his teeth at the thought of someone stealing his idea but as they said, it could be anything.

But it just meant that Sans could fall out of favour from the court and pharaoh if Grillby pretended it to be morning sickness, more and more of Sans’s allies would be pushed out to make way for Grillby’s own puppet masters – controlling Gaster though Grillby.

‘It doesn’t mean anything; it doesn’t mean he’s with child!’ Sans snarled coldly at the pharaoh, Sans turned away trying to calm himself – hearing the gently sound of the pharaohs sandals on the ground, gently grasping Sans’s shoulders. The grasp tightened when Sans tried to pull away – Gaster shushing him like he did when Sans was a sullen baby bones again.

‘Please, don’t act like this...It makes me feel horrid seeing you like this – I know you have been trying very hard to do as you’re duty commands, but these things happen.’ Gaster began, pressing an unwanted kiss against the others skull – clanking teeth against bone, ‘I want to make this better...’

‘You want to make this better?’ Sans turned around slowly, letting out a small sob, ‘You have been so good to me...and I have failed’, tears brimming at the edge of his sockets – in a carefully planned act, which Gaster always fell hook, line and sinker for.

‘Of course, I wish to give you peace of mind...’ Gaster brushed away the tears, Helvetica was always strong – Sans knew that Gaster wished for her to rely on him more than she had, more power over her but this was the next best thing. Even if it is pretend, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar after all.

‘Promise to me and the gods themselves, my children will be first in line – always.’ Sans demanded, hugging the other tightly – nuzzling into the others broader chest, pressing his wet face against the white linen robes

Gaster’s face fell at that demand but returned the embrace – Sans could hear the quickened soul beat of the others building arousal; quickened by the wine he drank earlier.

‘Sans, but that is –‘Gaster was cut off by the others demanding kiss, the older skeleton taken by surprise but quickly succumbing to the others attentions. Being pulled towards the wooden bench like bed, Sans was quickly pinned under the pharaoh, pulling the other on top of him – allowing the others purple magic to explore his mouth full, trying not to gag.

Gaster was getting a little grabby, pushing his long fingers under the others robes – opening the others robes eagerly. Sans stopped the other, cupping the older skeletons face – looking deep into the others sockets,

‘Do you promise to make my children first in line?’ Sans asked again, parting his legs and hitching up his under garment for the others pleasure. Gasters eyes wandered down, lingering at a moment at the smudged henna - it seemed Sans had a bath and didn't reapply it, it was a shame. Gaster loved tracing the red, winding snake with his tongue.

Gaster nodded desperately, pulling away to continue to ravage his young consort – moving to bite and nibble at the exposed vertebrae, Sans was holding the others head in place so the other couldn’t  see the gears churning and clicking of a plan brewing in the others sockets. The new kitten quickly found a sleeping spot in the discarded robes by the side of the bed – not paying any heed to the grunting figures above on the bed, but flicking one eye open noticing that the chamber door was slightly ajar and heavy footsteps echoing in the darkened hallway.

* * *

 

 

A/N

Sorry for the wait everyone – working on Halloween stuff 

I have some pharaoh verse fanart at : otherangela.tumblr.com

                                                                                                                                                                     

 


	7. Chapter 7

It had been three full moons, three full moons of Grillby acting like an roosting hen – Sans hated it, but not as much as he hated himself for finding himself longing for attention from the court, the pharaoh and...Papyrus. Turns out after a good lay, Gaster seemed to forget to mention that he had ordered the army to invade the encroaching human territory – to give the common people an idea on where some of their tax money is going. Papyrus had left the night of the news breaking of a baby from the second consort, news of it spread like wildfire – Sans felt a fleeting concern on that, maybe the other would think he is truly barren. The general is young and after his success on the battle field – what pretty thing wouldn’t fling themselves at him?

Those dark thoughts had followed him these lonely months, often in his garden – wondering if the general spared any thoughts on him at all. Sans had kept to himself, with his kitten the only company he could tolerate – it seemed to grow larger, and liked causing mischief with the dangling beads of the robes the denizens of the palace wore. When Sans was feeling down, the other always was ready to offer a bird to cheer the skeleton up – which did sometimes, when he was able to get a servant to hide it in Grillby’s room. Seeing Papyrus in one piece after the short siege both relieved the consort as well as worried him, but those thoughts are for another time; when his personal sanctuary wasn’t being invaded.

* * *

 

Sans stared at the radiantly glowing monster by the Pharaoh’s side though the curtain of taut red thread – the others radiance caught on the gold in the room and made the strings gleam and shimmer. His arm hooked with Gaster’s own decorated bones –  Gaster's smile seemed forced and uncomfortable at being paraded around Sans’s own personal wing of the palace.  Gaster was emotionally dense, but he even knew that this was a horrid thing to do - Grillby just wanted to get back at Sans for seducing the pharaoh on the day the other shared his hopes of a child growing within.

The atmosphere of the usually quiet place was tense,  it is an open area with a pond set in the mosaic floor, filled with fish and cushions strewn about for relaxing that Sans got away from members of the court he did not wish to interact with. 

  Sans knew for a fact that the pharaoh remembered vividly of the night he had lain with Sans , of what was promised – which was why Grillby seemed to be becoming more aggressive towards the young consort, monopolising the Pharaoh’s time he had outside the throne room. Which also meant Sans couldn’t get the other consort alone to either confirm or deny whether the other was truly pregnant.

Sans had tried to get one of his own servants to enter the others wing last week – but “slipped”(according to Grillby) by a torch, the poor bird creature had left with half her feathers cringed and gone. She had revealed to Sans that one of Grillby’s family member pushed her. (Though she would not lay blame on any name, saying things like, ‘my family goes to the Aten temple – they know my family goes to the Aten temple!’)

Sans did not try that again needless to say, but the extra presence of the temple high priests parading around the palace and barking orders at everyone, as if they already had the throne under their fat behinds made Sans more than a little irate. Even getting into the habit of calling him the ‘barren one’ to Sans’s face – a big mistake they learned, when they “accidentally” slipped into the pond for the courts amusement.

Sans would be lying if this shift of atmosphere came as a shock, as someone whom has caused a stir in the past  but still able to somewhat conceal his true feelings and personality from most of the court, Grillby included. Perhaps the fire monster figured that this would be final straw to break the camel’s back – only realising far too late he was playing chicken with a cobra all this time.

  But the other most certainly not expect Sans to seduce the pharaoh on the day that news broke of his unexpected child ...Sans remains unconvinced, he has many scrolls on the gestation of fire monsters and they normally show about now – but Sans couldn’t be sure, as it would be a mixed magic child. Some of the courtier’s shared Sans’s feelings about it – Gaster gains his magic from chaos, from Seth.

It is then only fitting that the magically strongest union would be with a monster whose magical core is that of Nephthys not from the fires of Aten – but there has only been Helvetica and Sans to gain that certain core, a stillborn that finally took a breath. A moment of death, a moment of sadness, a moment of rebirth is what it takes for the great winged goddess to offer her service to.

 Sans could feel the other glare at him heatedly past the Pharaoh’s shoulder, probably thinking back to the morning that their servant revealed the news of the Pharaoh being in heated in the chief consorts arms. Grillby was furious – many bowls and jars were shattered, the servants unable to stand the heat had to vacate the room.

Grillby was smiling gently at the pharaoh, making point of catching Sans’s eye by pressing a bejewelled hand against his barely covered stomach – no sign of life, no swell...but it is still early. They walked by the Consorts lounging area, Gaster seemed to quicken his step; not looking at the monsters reading, writing, playing Senet or helping Sans with the loom – members from Sans’s own trusted circle watched them make their way through, wide eyes flicking from this blatant passive aggressive attack from the second consort then back to Sans whom was still calmly weaving the red fabric. Loosing himself in his work, creating a red shroud of some sort – it had been a long while since he had created something like this before; though he and his mother did assist in the making of funeral shrouds when he was younger.

The tension was so incredibly high with other monsters helping the consort with the vivid strings of red by other skeleton monsters – no one saying anything or continuing polite conversation. Sans just dragged his bony fingers though the curtain of red thread like his Mother once did before when irritated though not being visibly so.  She did this motion a lot, when her sister was to marry Arial, when Gaster did something foolish – trying to concentrate on the vividness of the dye and the silky strands, how they felt brushing against her fingertips.

Helvetica was like Sans’s Grandmother, a stern shrewd skeleton that Sans could recall faintly of the overly strong perfume she seemed to bathe in. But she had wisely made the point to teach all the useful skills that other noble families didn’t bother with – skills to protect and make a home for a healthy, happy family. Helvetica had then taught Sans everything she knew, and more that she had learnt herself, with the aid of Ariel at the time, when he was the favourite of the pharaoh– Arial had gone to a long battle when she was young and in the first few months of Gaster’s regent-ship and  her marriage to the former vizier, upon bringing gold and treasure back to the gleeful pharaoh and greedy courtiers; he had presented a humble scroll of many different spells and ointments to the new queen. Helvetica had studied the text every night till she could repeat back everything off the top of her head .

The souring relationship of the pharaoh and the former general seemed to get worse as Sans grew and the relationship between Helvetica and her sister seemed to drop too. Husbands fighting would put a strain on any relationship with family Sans supposed.

It was something deep and painful was clinging from father to son- or Gaster was projecting all his animosity onto an innocent monster. Gaster never treated Papyrus with the respect that was owed – not recognising how just by the end of the wet season, the mud a vivid, fertile red and the gardens and rivers are brimming with green, swollen life that Papyrus, like the rich mud itself; had brought life back to the lacklustre army under his careful guidance and stern hand.

* * *

 

_The pharaoh could ignore Papyrus whipping the entire army into shape but he simply couldn’t ignore how the people chanted the general’s name when he rode back into town with the bloody heart of a human general in brown, weeping sack  - he held it high above and the cheers rose higher too. The common monsters followed him through the streets, with his battle seasoned crew – the chanting growing louder to reach the palace, the pharaoh and his two consorts stood by his side in a semblance of a happy welcome. Gaster had welcomed the soldiers inside. As soon as Papyrus entered the white marble room, with more scars than he left with – he had offered the heart to the pharaoh by his feet, as proof of his deed._

_Throwing the bloody heart at the pharaoh’s feet, only to have the other skitter back in barely concealed disgust- more concerned with his robes and sandals. Grillby looked just as horrified too- the fire monster was quite a recent addition to the court, his demur nature had shifted with his family’s efforts to catch the eye of the pharaoh with a barren chief consort. Grillby had come from a long line of scribes and priests of Aten – the physical disk of the sun, a fitting type of monster that Aten would favour; with bodies of fire and magic just as scorching as the sun itself._

_A human heart, dripping red and smelling like rancid meat was something a young noble, from a temple background like Grillby, would find confronting._

_Sans on the other hand, couldn’t help but stare fascinated with the fleshy, red heart – recalling vividly as the blood on the white marble stained the grains of sand and stone – was that his grandfather had his enemies chained under his throne; so every time he sat, he would crush his enemies or when Helvetica would be first to inspect Arial’s kill. That was back when Gaster pretended to at least care about the military._

_Today it was Sans whom congratulated Papyrus for the successful raid – but Grillby’s and Gaster’s eyes did light up in greedy delight at the servants whom trailed behind; arms laden with gold, treasure and fine dyed fabrics._

_The whole court joined in the praising of the bounty, Sans avoided looking at the general however – eyes instead trailing the servant presenting the red dyed silk, Papyrus did not waiver in his intense stare on the chief consort. Everyone was too distracted by the glittering gold and of the wealth that came with it – the festivities beginning again, never seeming to end under the rule of Gaster and Grillby._

_Sans could feel the burn from the others gaze as hot as the midday sun on his hennaed cheek and vertebrae._

* * *

 

Sans’s fingers finally tensed the moment they left however, red magic; sparked like the blood and fire he remembered, the taunting, shifting flames of his rival - it snapped the strands in his loose grasp.

The servant closest to him jumped back startled, and others stared at the length of ruined weaved cloth with varying degrees of disappointment.

‘It is not that bad, royal consort Sans.’  A bird like monster chirped out, sister of the poor burnt monster – grinning gently at the frowning skeleton, pulling out the long strip of red silk; fraying at the edges with a few threads caught accidently on the screws holding the loom together.

‘Such a regal colour, a colour a soldier would wear into battle.’ They chatted and went to feel the smooth cloth the other has brought into this world.

Not a soldier, but a general – Sans held back from saying, brushing his fingers against the woven fabric; just nodding to the polite conversation when needed.

* * *

 

 Papyrus had quickly slipped away from the party – it had gotten easier to slip through the palace walls with most of the guards are ones he has personally trained and those that still remained loyal to the pharaoh...they were dealt with on the battlefield. It was shockingly easy to blame the humans – with their weapons used during the dead of the night.

Like most creatures, it was easy to hate and judge someone that you already hold hate or fear against.

Those guards ignored the general prowling through the halls, making his way towards the expectant second consort’s room – hand ready on his curved blade, hungry for monster dust. Everyone is at the party, the chief consort is in his wing – he was about to turn into the wide wooden doors to the pharaoh’s new favourite to wait till the fire monster and perhaps even the pharaoh to stagger drunkenly in.  Papyrus froze though, hearing the slap of sandals on the tile – Papyrus pulled his robe to cover the cruel looking blade, going to turn.

 ‘Papyrus...?’ Sans asked surprised, in pretty formal robes and still painted with henna on his visible bones; in his hands was a folded red cloth , though that confusion darkening at seeing the door  the general was about to enter.

‘If you wish to visit Grillby for the night – Gaster spends almost every night with him now, and he usually believes three is a crowd.’ Sans said coldly, turning on his heel – leaving the general stunned.

‘Wait! You misunderstand –‘ Papyrus quickly said, but unable to say what he truly was going to do.

‘Please save your excuses for the pharaoh – he is usually kinder drunk so he might not kill you.’ Sans added, pained filled smile stretched across his face. As he went to leave, Sans accidentally dropped the one end of the slippery silk in his hurry to leave before the burn in sockets turned into tears to cascade down his face. Sans was so proud of himself that he didn’t let a single tear drop at all these three months – perhaps he was saving them if the General did not return from battle but he couldn’t even understand why he was going to waste tears on this cruel, scarred monster.

‘I said wait!’ Papyrus snapped angrily, grabbing the other end of the fabric – freezing at the sight at the furious tear stained face of the other glaring back at him; but with a crackle of magic – Sans was gone and the other end of frayed fabric floated down on the ground, limp and lifeless.

Papyrus reeled in the long strip of fabric, the fabric was fine if not a little frayed around the edges – Papyrus sighed, tying the sash around his kilt and rearranged his robe. The general stared at the door one last time – but turned to find the consort. 

* * *

 

Sans appeared in his personal garden next to wall with the now barely visible picture of his mother staring out at the garden, crumbling onto the ground in – breath hitching in harsh sobs, desperately clutching at her painted skirt. Only to have his hand press in a mud brick- startling the sobbing consort enough to stop, the crumbling brick seemed to have its mortar removed long ago with a sharp knife...or spade.

Sans sniffled a little still, at the edge of the brick were two wingding symbols in a cartouche – in the darkness of the evening he couldn’t read what it said, but it seemed to be two names. Sans went to try and shift out the brittle mud-brick but unable to get his fingers in the gap – but standing suddenly at the sound of the bead curtain shifting by his bed, there stood Papyrus; the moonlight catching on the red fabric he wore as a sash and on the ivory of his scared bones.

Sans didn’t know why, but he made certain the other couldn’t see the odd brick – it seems important for others not to see, like it was an old secret.

‘Why are you here? Surely you wish to see how Grillby is with his “burden”.’

‘You think me and he...’ Papyrus began, only to burst of into laughter – Sans bristled at the loudness at it - snapping quickly back,

‘Then why were you at his door, it seems to line up when you started here and Grillby fall pregnant.’

‘I wouldn't touch that lump of coal even if I was dying from cold – did you think you were the only one who has some daddy issues.’ Papyrus snorted with a smirk.

‘The high priest of Aten?’ Sans froze at that, ‘ Grillby’s father...oh gods.’ Sans covered his mouth –not expecting the other to be in a similar situation to himself, but Grillby’s mother is still alive...did she know?

‘A blessed child of Aten would take the throne then, they were planning to kill the pharaoh – they want to kill your father Sans...while you might not care...’ Papyrus said lowly.

 ‘It’s complicated...’  Sans muttered, allowing the other to enter his garden, ‘Gaster has a strong magic line as well, being with him has...its benefits.’ Sans admitted, ‘There are courtiers whom have grown accustomed to the pharaoh’s over indulgences and would be very unhappy for it to end – they would blame me and well...’ Sans didn’t finish his train of thought.

‘I wanted to protect you.’ Papyrus began lowly, inching closer, ‘Our kingdom will only be secure with your magic line on the throne,  Gaster’s line must not succeed.’

‘You would even protect the pharaoh?’ Sans said unsure, ‘You are your fathers son, Arial never got along with Gaster.’

‘True...but unlike the pharaoh, I hope for you to see past that and if protecting the pharaoh means protecting you – I will stay my hand.’ Sans sockets widened at that confession, it was slight but it was there – the other had planned a coo.

‘You would do that for me?’ Sans began softly, though the suspicion lingered.

Papyrus jiggered smile twitched, grasping the others slighter shoulders – Sans pulled himself closer by grabbing the others red sash, purposefully rubbing his clothed pelvis against the other. Giving the general a half lidded look, smiling,

‘Red does look good on you...’

‘Hmm, was it a gift for me?’  Papyrus rocked back against the tempting movements, pressing his slightly ajar mouth to the royal consorts panting one in a slow wanting kiss.

‘Yes...it was actually going to be your funeral shroud.’ Sans moaned, legs being hitched up around the others pelvis – Papyrus was using his stronger upper body strength to support the others body, Papyrus had carried the other to the garden bench – the night air not that chilling with the low hum of music filling the palace.

‘ A funeral shroud...really?’ Papyrus muttered.

‘But it looks good as a sash...at least it has multiple uses.’ Sans said, though cutting off with a hiss when the other went to bite at his neck. Sans still didn’t trust Papyrus fully, the revelation of Grillby’s own infidelity just gave Sans the chance he needed to finally get rid of the fire monster...completely and utterly.

Sans felt the scabbard of the others blade in his exploration – the blade would be thin enough to wedge to loose brick out, it has been unnaturally removed and put back in; that much Sans knew.

While Sans’s need was strong, it didn’t stop him creating a situation to his advantage – nor was he foolish enough to think Papyrus wasn’t doing the same. Sans closed his sockets, allowing for just one night he could pretend that the way the other was touching him, kissing him and making him feel loved  wasn’t just for political gain. Just for one night.

* * *

 

A/N

Sorry for the wait hope you enjoyed – it’s going to be smut in the next chapter, when they finally do the deed.


	8. Chapter 8

  _the promised smut that i promised probably in November last year...i have a short attention span...and writing smut has gotten a little rusty for me_

* * *

Sans was pressed hard into the sandstone bench - barely able to ground his body into the stone, desperately digging his fingers into the designs carved into the sides of the bench.  The design itself seemed to be that of reeds of the Nile bed with the boat of Horus sailing across the water and the arching body of Nut, the night goddess above the sailing god.

Sans arched desperately,though he was not holding up the night sky, the general’s battle calloused bones gripped his femurs tighter – forcing the almost sheer linen robe to press and outline his small and delicate build, the faint glow of his dripping excitement would’ve embarrassed him at first but the utter worship and reverence that the young general exuded forth at the others lewd position had put the young royals worry’s at ease.

‘Has the pharaoh been the only one you’ve lain with?’ The general pushed up the others robe, though it had done very little to hide the others modesty – the pleats and gathered fabric only did so much. But they were in the royal consorts’ wing, and it was polite decorum if the Pharaoh and any of his men went to visit the consort they were needed to call ahead - while Sans has not been called on and been desperate to avoid the rest of the court, he could wear more casual clothes around his wing in the palace.

But with half his men inside the palace walls the general had very little to be concerned about being found out being uninvited in the consorts private chambers – he had thought this night would be the perfect chance to catch the pharaoh at his weakest...but the appearance of the royal consort was unexpected, and so here he was.

Papyrus did not care much for polite decorum, when he saw an unkempt garden with a beautiful flower blooming in the mess – he could not fight the desire to pluck it. Sans was forgotten in the haze of the courts parties and excess, the child budding in his rival had only left the consort in the weeds sown by fate and the pharaoh. 

It was a shame, but there was less resistance to his attentions.

‘Ah, yes – as soon as my mother passed; arrangements had been arranged.’ Sans said a little breathlessly, what a horrible happy 14 birthday that was.

The other pulled his leg straight licking a long stripe with his ruby red tongue down the inside of the others femur and back up, Papyrus completely pushed up the others robes; revealing the ruby red mound gaping and dripping.

‘I’ll make you weep in pleasure then.’ Papyrus smirked, pulling the others legs farther apart -

Sans arched as the very intimate part of him was revealed to the cold from the night air, the general, noticing the other shivering a little bit, had fallen to his knees beside the bench – mouth coming forward and licking down the others wet silt.

Sans arched hopelessly, slapping his mouth closed with his hand – the tongue had pressed incessantly inside the very depths of the malleable magic, flicking and pressing against the others inner most walls; searching for something. Sans twitched suddenly, obviously the general had found what he was looking for and continued his assault on the others dripping sex – rubbing his fleshy magic in his mouth against the erect nub above the other entrance to further inside. Papyrus pulled his mouth away, red saliva and the others own sweet magic was licked away slowly – his voice was raspy with arousal, stroking the others pelvis and dragging his long fingers in the gooey slick, already puddling between the others legs and staining the white sandstone.

‘Your body has been his temple for years...’ Papyrus began lowly, standing once again but with only one of his hands still holding Sans’s now trembling femur apart with the other foot grounded on the tiles of the garden, hitching up his own kilt by grabbing the fabric and the pleat – tucking it in his sash revealing his large ruby red cock, standing proudly and of impressive girth.

‘The pharaoh has visited many temples, he won’t miss one if he doesn’t know of this trespass.’

This wasn’t the first time Sans had seen the others manhood but this would be the first time it would be inside him...Sans spread his legs further, or tried to in his excitement - but it would seem they were open as wide as they could be.

‘Tonight, the temple is not open for the pharaoh...tonight – we open our doors for another.’ Sans said lowly, yelping when he was dragged closer to the ledge of the bench – the sandstone rubbed and grazed at the young royals bones, dots of red marrow spotted on the bunched up sheer fabric and the stone might have begun to tear and tug by the force of how the stronger monster basically dragged him and lifted his pelvis close to his own throbbing length.

Papyrus pulled the other further, hooking the others leg over his shoulder – gently rocking the blunt tip of his cock against the soft mound, pressing in the slightly gaping lips, spreading the glistening labia apart but not going any farther. Sans panted desperately and tried to rock his hips against the other but with the way he was being held, he simply did not have the strength.

The clenching of the others fingers against San’s femur was the only warning he got before Papyrus pulled out fully and then slammed in – Sans could feel his breath catch at the sudden fullness as the other fully hilted inside, the general letting out a slight grunt too, that sound had filled Sans with pride at his body still being pleasurable to the other.

Letting a monster, such as the pharaoh, had not really lived up to his expectations of what laying with another would be like, perhaps he was simply pleased that all the years with the pharaoh he wasn’t ruined for someone else.

The thrusts from the other was increasing it’s tempo and Sans could feel his own orgasm shamefully close – his magic heating up and building in his loins, the sound of the powerful cock plunging into his wetness was echoing in the dark garden – the sounds of faint croaking frogs and the songs of crickets were being drowned out by their passionate love making.

Papyrus continued thrusting harder into the other, stilling when the magic around him suddenly tightened – a gush of wetness exploded around his cock, smirking at how the others eye lights disappeared from his sockets as the consorts orgasm had made him a quivering mess.

Papyrus continued to thrust into the easing tightness – staring at the other in a mix of fondness and lust, Sans was moaning desperately and panting as his body was being stimulated again, stilling suddenly but leaving Sans on edge. The other had pulled out; rock hard cock glistening and leaking pre-come.

Sans was pulled up and moved, chest against the sandstone bench – his magic spiking and forming mounds to cushion his chest against the cold stone causing the consort to let out a sharp hiss, but it was just adding to the sharp and pleasurable pain of over stimulation, with how his  newly formed nipples rubbed painfully against the rough bench.

The hands were holding his hips tightly as he thrust back in roughly, Sans’s body was screaming for it desperately – it was indeed too much as Sans began to do what the other promised to do to him, he began to weep at the onslaught.

His cunt was desperately swallowing the others length as he was explored deeper than he ever was before, feeling it rub at the back of his magic and bones made the Sans want to scream to the heavens.

Papyrus thrust harder, Sans pressed his skull into the bench – muffling an scream as his cunt tensed again, his slick spilling out onto the bench- Papyrus let out a low grunt but still thrust though the others orgasm, still very hard as the others body desperately milked his shaft but Papyrus refused to give in to the others coaxing.

Sans was very much limp against the bench, if it wasn’t for the other hands holding his hips up he would’ve collapsed –He could only whimper quietly when the other continued his thrusting, they were slowing though; the other was getting close as well it seemed with how Papyrus seemed to be grunting more often and rolling his hips getting more desperate  to sow his seed into the warm, inviting body below.

Papyrus got one of his hands free, moving it to the font of the others pelvis – feeling how his cock speared and pushed open the others slick sex, it didn’t take long to find the swollen clit – throbbing and overstimulated. Papyrus smirked at the other – pinching the bundle of swollen magic causing Sans to let out a loud scream as another orgasm made his body tremble and pulse; it seemed that the others cry and the tightening of the magic one final time finally made Papyrus finally give into his body and release into the sticky heat deeply. Sans choked back a sob, feeling the others member twitch and then steadily fill him up deeply– Papyrus just kept on thrusting though his orgasm till he was completely milked dry by the others twitching magic.

Sans was so out of it that he really didn’t feel the other pull out and pull down his robes though immediately sticking to his legs and pelvis with the amount of ectoplasm remaining and running down his femurs. The general picked him up and took him to the consorts main chamber, a little cat was mewing at him and getting under his feet - Papyrus gently pushed it away with his foot.

 Papyrus left soft kisses onto the others skull as Sans was placed gently on the bed, that moment was enough for Sans to come  back from his  blissful state.

Sans quickly ensnared and took Papyrus by surprise by the sudden action, kissing the other deeply and passionately. Papyrus growled lowly, matching the others intensity – only to be pushed away with a coy smile, Sans’s own hand that was touching the others hip lowered away from the side of the bed.

‘You should go before the party breaks up...’ Sans said gently, moaning when the other stole another kiss.

‘We will find a place we can be together safely...’ Papyrus promised breathlessly against the others mouth.

‘I know we will, but you should leave before they wonder where you are.’ Sans pushed him away again, which Papyrus followed the others orders and made his way out of the consorts chambers; stilling at the door and staring longingly at the lounging figure.

‘I swear to you, by my magic, I will be the one next to you...soon.’

Sans flushed at that dedication, watching as the other leave – only moving when the large door was closed. Sitting up with a narrowed glance at the door, absentmindedly twirling the dagger he had stolen from his lover – he will return it of course, but first...

* * *

 

Sans stood up, slightly stumbling as he made his way back outside, finding the out of place mud brick – he knelt in the garden bed and began to chip away at the loose mortar, there was a rattling sound as he wedged the brick out.

It had been hollowed, it was made to be this way it seemed as it had a small scroll case in a wax case, a dried bouquet, some small bits of paper with notes on it and beads from what would’ve been a fine jade and lapis necklace.

The ornate case hat the head of Nephthys as the handles carved from onyx – with her wrapping wings like a funeral shroud, and it seemed to be sealed by the high priestess and...Sans’s mother. Sans brushed against the etching of spells on the wax box, magic sparking and unsettling – whatever it was, Helvetica had not wanted it found by the Pharaoh.

Sans rotated the box, only to be greeted by the all Seeing Eye – Sans frowned, staring at the night sky, preparing his self to visit his mothers and his patron goddess’s temple.

To start his journey to Nephthys temple, in the very depths  of the royal burial ground – the Valley of the Kings.

* * *

 

_sorry for the slow updates, i have a really short attention span :(_


	9. Chapter 9

The swishing of Sans’s robes as he strode purposefully out to the mud brick buildings, hidden within a plantation of palm trees and some date palms – the dawn was breaking, the faint light being filtered through the thick fronds. The mud brick buildings were hidden behind the grandeur of the white plaster walls of the palace, and housed the few of the royal chariot horses – though they had not seen much use under the rule of Gaster.

The young stable hands stood to immediate attention at the sight of the chief consort, the other uncaring if his robes and fine sandals were ruined in the mud that had sloshed out of the trough or the animal mess that was scattered around.

One of them was up one of the date palm trees taking their breakfast from natures bounty, in their maw was stuffed with the sweet fruit – though the other made a strangled gargling noise at the sight of the consort and made a quick decent by falling. Hitting the hardened clay ground with a loud thump – coughing harshly, though none of his friends made a move to help him, unsure if they should drop to their knees or stare stunned at the royal in all white linen.

Sans cleared his throat, all three of the monster children almost instantly dropped to their knees – Sans had to fight back the urge to roll his eye lights at the display, especially with Undyne and Alphys scrambling up from behind the young royal. Sans needed to try and not sigh openly at how the others stumbled awkwardly – mindful of their new outfits.

Both in long robes, similar to that of Sans own clothes but looking similar to ladies of the court or Sans’s own handmaidens – Alphys were over the moon at the sight of the fine fabrics; much to the disdain of some of Sans’s handmaidens though the moment Sans pulled out a garment for Undyne to wear.

Sans had to order Undyne take the robes, since the other looked closer to punching the trembling monster girl who was offering it to the fearsome warrior with her odd beads and odd carvings, unfamiliar to most simple servants - though recognising that it was items that enemies of the pharaoh had worn.

Undyne eventually took the garment, or snatched it from the other – Undyne was not fond of where they going, though she fighting back her arguments at the stern glance from the stouter lizard monster.

‘Chief consort...we were not expecting you –‘The bravest of the four spoke up, only stilling at the death glare from the fish monster behind the small royal.

‘Yes, well – whether you were expecting me or not, prepare a chariot for me and my ladies.’ Sans ordered.

The monster looked unsure for the moment, looking between the three higher monsters – wringing his clawed hands together.

‘But my royal consort, the pharaoh must be made aware of any of the horses being taken.’

‘Are you suggesting that I must bow to the pharaohs ruling – like that of a common creature, am I not an embodiment of a god to you?’ Sans questioned the poor child, passive aggressively – the other seemed to want to crawl into himself at the others line of questioning.

‘Well, ah- ‘The other fumbled, only to still as a gentle hand rested upon the his head making the other look up teary eyed at the other.

‘Now, bring me your best horse – and rig a chariot up’ Sans asked far more gently, and that seemed to do the trick as they all sprang into action, rushing to follow the orders given to them. Sans took the opportunity to turn to face his companions, whispering in a shushed breath,

'Where were you two this morning, I thought we agreed we were meeting to make a united entrance .Hmph, we’re fortunate the horse master is away and we only have to deal with the children.’ Sans huffed annoyed, making Alphys and Undyne frown at him.

‘Hey, you woke us in the middle of the night – throwing fancy clothes at us, while demanding we escort you to Nephthys temple.’ Undyne spat on the ground, an herbal mixture it seemed, and the strong scent of peppermint wafted from it.  Undyne was left muttering some insults in her own native tongue – following the children to inspect the horses.

‘Not that we don’t appreciate the fancy clothes and this stunning red coral necklace...’ Alphys muttered, staring at her adorned neck with awe and wonder, snapping out of it quickly, ‘But you have not told us why?’

‘I found some odd documents with the temples wax seal on it in my mother’s hand, there must be something of importance to it.’ Sans explained briefly, feeling slight betrayal at his mother’s secrets but understanding why she did it.

‘Something she had hidden from the pharaoh...?’ Alphys hummed, looking thoughtful – she had known the former queen well but this seemed strange and surreal. Borderline dangerous, if it was something the woman hid from her child; if it was to protect them.

‘She was not suited to my father, as I am not either – true, a child conceived from our magic lines would’ve been strong...I would not wish for my child to grow up as I did.’ Sans hummed, walking to one of the date palm branches that snapped in the child’s fall – still laden with the fat little jewels of the desert. Sans plucked them mindlessly, not really wanting to eat them but giving something for his hands to do.

‘That’s surprisingly selfless of you.’ Alphys began only to have her mouth shoved full of dates, Sans flushing a little, ‘Also, I may have taken your and Undyne’s suggestion about the general.’

Alphys spat out the dates in shock, Sans flinched back from the coughing healer – Alphys wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, staring at him and then to the others clothed midsection.

‘Have you noticed any fluctuating moments of magic? Have you experienced any phantom pain? Have you experience any odd food cravings?’ Alphys questioned the other a little hurriedly -  Sans looked at her like a crazy woman.

‘It had only happened yesterday, and the general has returned to his encampment with his troops...’ Sans explained stiffly, the other seemed to be desperately trying to stop the excited squeal escape her snout. Sans glared at her to stay quiet, just as the running of hooves and the rattling of wheels rolled onto the harden clay of the ground – the stable hands were looking a little wary at the  fearsome former nomad, grinning a tad manically as she expertly pulled the horse to a stop.

The horse itself was an older one, and the most trustworthy out of all the other ones – the stallions coat was shiny reddish brown, the same colour of the fertile riverbed and mane and tail trimmed, beaded and well maintained by the stable hands. Sans hoped they were being paid fairly by the horse master but they could’ve been orphans that the other had picked up for free labour – Sans had frowned a little at the four children making sure the chariot would not come apart from the horse.

They moved away, happy they were not going to accidentally kill the chief consort and his companions – and the horse seemed to patient enough with the agitated fish monster tugging at the leather reigns. Sans patted the horses snout, its hot breath was hitting Sans’s hand – enjoying the fond petting from the royal he probably haven’t seen since he was but a foal, Alphys patted it on it's flank a little timidly, she had not grown up with horses and was not certain the best way to pat it. The stallion didn't seem to mind, just happy to be in use.

Sans was pulled up into the chariot, soon followed by Alphys – it was a tight fit as the cab was usually built for the rider and then perhaps a archer in battle. As they began to ride, Sans promised the children that by tomorrow they will be given what the horse master owed them and even more if they would not spread any of the news of the royal consort leaving.

A little star struck they all eagerly agreed – the prospect of finally getting paid for all the work seemed to agree with the four monster children, allowing space for the horse to bolt freely into the just woken  up streets.

* * *

 

Undyne had taken to the chariot like she always knew how to ride – but the nomad had probably only been on camel within the depths of the desert when she was still young before she and her people had been captured.

The tense movements of the other, and the pursed lips as the clay ground turned into soft sand as they made their way further and further away from the lively town, the fertile green and the red mud from the Nile. The building just a glimmer on the horizon line – making their way deeper in the chaotic deserts ruled over by Set and his wife Nephthys.

Undyne had lived in the desert for as long as she could remember – a fish out of water situation but after long exposure to the harsh conditions, they had adapted. 

‘Undyne, thank you for coming – I know how uncomfortable you are with our temples.’ Sans said, holding on for dear life as the other charged ahead – trying to break the uncomfortable silence that overtook the chariot.

‘Thank you – but the moment I see any artwork depicting my people being killed by your so called pharaoh, I’m leaving.’

‘Nephthys temple wouldn’t have anything like that...’ Alphys began, making her partner huff, ‘She is the goddess of mourning, lamentation, night time and rivers.’ The dunes stretched tall and far, the arid desert was heating up but clearing as they neared the almost buried temple – the gateway between life and death, the last stop before the Valley of the Kings. Just beyond that is where the queens were buried, where his mother lay in dust and ash in ornate jars – walls painted with the watchful eyes of Anubis and Osiris.

‘We only had one god, who was the creator god of the cosmos.’ Undyne mumbled holding the reigns loosely, ‘How can you remember so many, and give them different names in accordance to the time of day?’

‘Well, how do you know there is only one? How do you know not all of them exist – watching us foolish mortals proclaim which is right and which is wrong?’ Sans said, ‘It doesn’t really matter anyway, we are either proven right or wrong when we pass on – we just have to do what is morally right.

‘But without religion, would we have morality?’ A voice twittered out, voice full of mirth and humour – two rows of priestesses, robes marked with black and face obscured by a veil pinned into their beaded headdresses.  They were completely bare from the top up and seemed to shuffle as though in an odd trance, eyes unfocused and glossy.

They parted gently revealing the one who spoke, the high priestess had a collar beaded very similarly to that of a web, and a dark robe – the designs tattooed on her skin seemed to odd spells and the like, with some black inked spiders and web on her blue skin too.

She seemed far more lucid than the rest, but had a certain air of danger to her, her heavy jewels and beads jingled when she moved – gesturing to her guests.

‘Would we as mortals, uphold Ma ’at without the gods showing us the way?’ The High priestess flipped up her veil and with her other pair of arms held behind her back.

‘Muffet, when did you become High priestess?’ Sans frowned at the other, she was a few years older than him.

‘I don’t know, when did you start sharing your father’s bed?’ Muffet just said just as plainly, turning  around – the rest of the temple hands following the other, the ‘mourners’, woman who were expected to be at the funeral rites of those who didn’t have a family or a rich person who wanted a spectacle when they died.

Sans moved out of the chariot as another temple hand rushed to talk the horse to be tied up and given a drink – Undyne looked like she ate a piece of sour fruit as she stared at the temple ahead of them, Alphys was twisting her hands together in a mix of excitement and fear. They both followed Sans, his magic had been prickling happily at the sight of it's earthly temple, though how the others hand drifted to his midsection didn’t go unnoticed by one of Muffet’s many eyes.

* * *

 

They entered the temple; the painted walls did not show the great battles of other temples but rather detailing in vivid paint – the trials of the Underworld. Within the centre showcased the tall imposing shadow of Nephthys winged statue – funeral shrouds wrapped the statue and the heady smell of incense almost was too overpowering - the shroud that have covered the statues eyes, fluttered briefly revealing the calm, sadness to the halls. Sans could feel his knees almost buckle at the sight, the ghostly sensation of eyes on him and then the sudden sharp pain that came from his midsection. He nearly fell, only to be supported by Alphys.

Muffet turned to the other, looking sad at the royal – the most despairing as well as the most joyful thing was uttered.

‘You’re pregnant.’ Muffet muttered distantly, 'Nephthys sees the life beginning inside of you.'

‘...’ Sans righted him and pulling himself away from his friend, ‘It only would’ve happened yesterday.’ Sans muttered, staring at the statue in a mix of awe and annoyance

‘Yes...Nephthys told me that too... she is envious of you, for making a stunning choice in mate’ Muffet added, only adding to the others feelings of ill-at-ease, ‘ The pain, she is only making you aware of it - you still have yet to physically show...did you know Nephthys and Isis were sisters?’

‘Of course.’ Sans huffed, the odd phantom pain seemed to disappear – leaving him to stare at the statue.

‘Your mother had a sister too, Calibri, she was not a favourite of Nephthys nor your grandfather – twins are a death sentence to the bearer usually.’ Muffet mumbled out, smiling sadly, 'It's somewhat fitting for your magic to come from the goddess of funeral rites.

Sans froze at that, both Undyne and Alphys paled at that.

‘Quite fatal, in most cases the bearer will fall during the birth – the strain far too much for their magic.’ Muffet continued, ‘Many a child and bearer come to these halls because of that sad fate.’

‘My grandmother survived though.’ Sans said stubbornly, ‘So I will too.’

‘Your grandmother wasn’t able to have another child after that.’ Muffet reminded the other, shaking her head a little though turning to them fully.

‘Though I know you well enough to know you didn’t come all the way for well wishes and a congratulations for having the future heirs growing within your womb...’

‘Once again, you are true.’ Sans sighed, finally passing the wax scroll and the box was sealed with the wings of Nephthys. Muffet frowned, taking the items – quickly gesturing for them to follow her, the  bodies of the mourners staggered dumbly around the shine, ignoring the others as they moved ever so deeper in the temple catacombs.

* * *

 

Please leave a kudos and a comment if you liked, i want to finish this with the schedule of updating either thursday or friday each week :)  

 


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

The faint torch light lit up the highly painted and the vivid walls – looking very close to the most elaborate tombs built for the royal families own tomb to house the bodies that had been treated with magic to not turn to dust. The very wealthy of the monsters had concocted a way to preserve the body fully; no longer being blown away in wind as sooty dust, but still, it had taken many attempts to even get it right – along the walls was decorative pedestals, all with animal headed jars; some with bejewelled eyes, holding in their ceramic bellies the remains that did not reach that almost sleep like appearance.

Undyne, Alphys and Sans moved ever deeper – noticing the red, glowing eyes of hordes of tiny black spiders, carefully avoiding the light but still the movement on the painted walls sent chills down all of their spines. Muffet paid no mind to the rapidly moving dots, quickly moving past her guests and then to the large ornate door at the end of the corridor – hundreds of spiders moving under the door and in between the cracks of the sandstone.

‘I really wasn’t expecting that to be brought back here...’ Muffet absentmindedly said, Sans staring at the odd high priestess, ‘I had assumed my queen would’ve destroyed that box.’

‘Former queen, you mean.’ Undyne muttered, out of all of them – she was the most uncomfortable to be here.

‘Former, present...does it really matter?’ Muffet muttered, ‘She was a mother to me as well as my queen – she was a mother to all the mourners, the lady of the house, the embodiment of Nephthys.’ Muffet turned her eyes to face the others, ‘She will always be the queen to me.’

Muffet reached the large door, gently brushing away any of the lagging spiders – so she wouldn’t squash any of them, she grabbed the large rings with three hands on each ring. On closer inspection the handles where looped golden snakes – carved into the soft metal expertly, back in the age when the pharaoh’s cared about all the gods and not just the ones their magical core aligns with.

With one great heave, and with the aid from the squirming piles of spiders pushing the doors open and helping the high priestess reveal the inner sanctum of the temple. Dimly lit and filled with busily weaving spiders – death shrouds strung up in the shimmering strands of web. Muffet paused for a moment, allowing Sans to walk past her, staring transfixed at the sitting figure on a onyx throne – the heavy scent of incense and musk spiralled around the room in plumes of white smoke curled around the winged statuettes sitting by the figure sitting by the onyx throne.

Muffet raised a hand up to stop Alphys and Undyne as they went to step forward to follow the others.

‘I’m sorry, but this is where you two must wait.’

‘What!?’ Undyne snapped at the retreating spider monster, following behind Sans – Alphys quickly grabbed the other before the fish monster did something foolish.

‘Be still, Undyne – she is the priestess of this temple; you have to listen to her.’

‘But what if she does something weird to Sans – I’m sure she is up to no good!’ Undyne hissed out being pulled away from the door as the priestess closed the heavy door behind her.

Alphys sighed, feeling her own wariness as the door finally closed – letting go of Undyne and slumping against the wall of the corridor, joined by Undyne after the other finished her aggravated pacing.

There is nothing they could do, except wait.

* * *

 

Sans distantly could hear the door close behind him, but it felt as though his skull was filled with cotton – feeling odd and fuzzy, like the bubbling concern of the news of twins blessed upon his weak body was taken away and locked away securely in a box.

‘After all these years, and now you come back...’ Muffet began lowly, kneeling before the statue kneeling before the shrouded figure – like the statue above ground; it was concealed by almost sheer fabric – layers and layers of fabric covering the body from being stared at an direct mortal gaze.

‘And being pregnant.’ Muffet continued, bowing to the hidden figure – Muffet rose up briefly only to bow again, Sans was standing awkwardly; finding his ability to walk again – he moved forward and lowered his knees to the cushion beside the other, Muffet seemed to be lost in silent prayer. Sans stared at the box in his hands and back to the priestess.

‘You know what this is?’ Sans whispered harshly to the other, the uncomfortable sensation of being watched filled him again.

‘...That is very rude.’ Muffet sighed, chastising the other – not opening her eyes to the others frustration. She was still annoyed at this being the moment she sees Sans again – the other was last seen at the temple at his mother’s funeral, quickly then being rushed off to begin his prepping to be the royal consort.

Muffet never wished death upon another monster till she had met the Pharaoh Gaster – the high priestess at the time calmed her down from that rage she had felt, but still it was seething deep in her soul.

‘I don’t have time for your games Muffet – what is this?’ Sans asked more urgently.

‘A secret that would’ve put you and your mother in incredible danger...Helvetica kept the key close to her soul at all times.’

‘So the key is lost.’ Sans huffed, annoyed thinking this trip was a waste.

‘...’ Muffet frowned at that.

‘Muffet?’ Sans questioned the other.

‘Not exactly...’ Muffet flushed, shuffling to face the young royal, ‘The valley of the queens had vandals and thieves dig up tombs – so I took the liberty to move Queen Helvetica.’

‘You removed my mother from her tomb!’ Sans quickly snapped, fury coiling and getting ready to strike – like a viper being disturbed in the sun.

‘Why shouldn’t I!’ Muffet snarled quickly back, ‘You never made the time to visit her, too busy laying with that disgusting piece of filth calling himself pharaoh!’

Sans grabbed her, catching the other by surprise – as the spider monster recoiled, Sans pulled the other harshly by one of her many arms; making the brief flash of fear blaze in the other’s eyes.

‘I am not your enemy here, if you are under some delusion that I am with my father by choice or for political gain – I am not, I am only trying to survive and keeping my mother’s legacy alive.’ Sans hissed lowly, letting the other go – returning to full height as the power of this room seemed to diminish, enraged at what the other thought of him and the assumption that he chose this fate for himself he quickly turned to the sitting statue hidden away.

It reminded him of how he was treated in the palace now, title diminished, hidden away from everyone – his whole life had stopped when the queen passed away, the duty to the throne completely pushing back any need or want Sans had for himself. And he wasn’t even able to complete that duty because of his oblivious, power hungry father – the man would sooner destroy his country and its people before he would step down from the throne.

Sans quickly grabbed the shrouds, much to the shrill cries of Muffet, staggering to stop him – the fabric torn and gently fluttered down on the dusty ground. Sans stood frozen, the vacant eyes of the figure stared down at him – the sharp pain in his magical core returned at full force, the ringing in his skull coming back to; like a shrill woman’s scream and sobs.

Sans held himself still as the pain ebbed away – staring up into the blank sockets, the blank sockets of his mother stared down at him. Her bones weren’t as white as when they were living and grey hairline cracks decorated her slight frame – in life she was a bit taller than Sans, though it might have been because of all her impressive headdress’s in life; always adding a head or two to her when she sat.

Her clothes were not the ones she had been buried in, and seemed to be changed daily by Muffet herself – but other than the minor discolouring and the small cracks, the figure that was mistaken as a statue once could be even mistaken for Helvetica sleeping or perhaps the sad goddess of the temple herself . Sans stared alarmed at his mother’s body,  and then back to the sobbing spider monster – disgust and pity filled Sans’s soul at the sight of the other completely broken down, it had been a long time since Sans considered the effects the loss of Helvetica had on others.

Alphys knew his mother well but she never spoke in depth about her to Sans, but perhaps she confided in Undyne more about it – Sans briefly wondered  how Alphys would have reacted to seeing his mother still formed in a shine just for the fallen queen. She would’ve have probably reacted similarly to the high priestess.

 Sans’s anger at the other outweighed the almost childish fear of the unknown power Muffet possessed , the fear he had felt because of the high priestess and this temple of forgotten memories and woe seemed foolish now.

Perhaps it was that fear that kept him away, or it was the anger at the gods themselves for taking his mother away and landing him in this sad fate.

‘I had to move her!’ Muffet cried out in defence to the consort, perhaps finally realising she could be convicted of grave robbing herself if the Pharaoh got wind of this treachery, ‘The temple of Aten were going to damage her body and remove her name!’

‘Why would they do that?’ Sans said, ‘Any gripes they had with my mother, should’ve passed down to me.’

‘I suppose you would only know as much as they allowed you to know...’ Muffet wiped her face with the edge of her skirt, ‘The temple of Aten has been busy becoming the wealthiest temple in the land, with the child of Aten’s priests son sharing the pharaohs bed and the influence he is having on the people...’ Muffet laughed a little, ‘Sans let’s face it; you are not the darling of the people anymore.’

‘...So they like Grillby better then?’ Sans said dangerously.

‘Locking your self away and avoiding them since Helvetica’s passing did not endear you to them.’ Muffet chided the other, sniffling a little – moving to pick up the torn shrouds.

‘If I wasn’t there, do you think the military would be paid? If I wasn’t there do you think everyone wouldn’t be starving and out of work? If I wasn’t there...’ Sans heaved out, trying not to break down – not in front of his mother’s staged body.

‘We can both agree that without you the land would be worse off, but even Helvetica knew how to appeal to the masses.’ Muffet said gently, but Muffet looked to the others clothed midsection, ‘But it seems you have the ball in your court now...I’ve heard the new general is very popular with the people, the pharaoh may get jealous of that popularity but with the news of children from you...’

‘The general is popular – and he has promised not to incite a revolt against the Pharaoh if I am in danger.’ Sans hummed distantly, clutching the locked box tighter – Muffet frowned at it briefly, going to move closer to the body; gently removing one of the necklaces, an odd looking sphere jewel glinted in the torch light.

‘So the talk of the coo was real...the general is treading a dangerous line here, there is only so long his comrades will listen to him.’ Muffet said softly – the torches flickering on her face.

Sans fingers clenched the box tightly, it is true, it would only be so long that the Papyrus’s collaborators would wait for Papyrus to strike. And with the continued siege of the soldiers battling the human encampments – who knows who could be out to kill the royal family.

She held it out for Sans to take, a piece of onyx that made Sans immediately flip the box over – seeing that there was a recess where the black pupil was, the white of the eye made from mother of pearl.  As Sans went to grab the missing piece, Muffet pulled it away from the others grasp.

‘Inside is something Gaster must never find out, for the safety of your children, the general and yourself.’ Muffet warned, before handing over the piece finally. Sans pushed it in place- the faint sound of a click was heard from the box, sans then went to turn the box over again – moving to turn the handles in opposite directions till the almost seamless looking box popped open. It was filled with used parchment, personal letters of his mother’s when she was just a girl it seemed. Scribbled in ornate looking wingdings – Sans was about to pull one of them out to read, only to hear the distant sound above them of a startled shout and something smashing.

Muffet stood up, staring up at the ceiling – confusion etched on her face as she quickly moved to the door. Sans shut the box again – removing the key jewel and using the strand of leather acting as a necklace for it to tie it around his neck and hide the stone under his robes.

* * *

 

The door was opened, revealing the wary expressions on both Undyne and Alphys face – staring up at the muffled shouting above them in the main shine, thankfully the entrance to the corridor entrance was hidden by a large sphinx at the sides of the large statue of the goddess.

Muffet continued to make her way up – peaking from the back of the sphinx, followed by Sans, Alphys and Undyne. Undyne let out a low snarl jumping into action – shifting the long uncomfortable robe, revealing the shorter under robes revealing her blue, tattooed skin and the ornate long bow hooked around her shoulder and the horse hair was twined together strongly.

A quiver full of arrows was slung over her shoulder too – Alphys stared confused at the weapon, Undyne huffed answering the unasked question on everyone’s mind.

‘It was in the chariot when we entered, thought it would be useful – turns out I was right.’ Undyne muttered quietly, pulling out an arrow – dimly charging the arrow with her own magic.

Just beyond the sphinx statue there was the slumped figure of one of the mourners – a spear like wound pieced the poor woman’s side, she seemed to be trying to run into the inner sanctum to warn them but unable to make it with the prowling armoured guards, the other mourners were rounded up and forced on the ground.

Sans narrowed his eyes at the guard that began to drag the body away, not before tearing the girl’s robes dress and stealing her necklace. Muffet was trembling in rage at this point, Sans was keeping a steady hand on her arm so she wouldn’t run out and be ambushed by the guards.

 They had no markings of the royal family, they were not guards of Papyrus or the Pharaoh but the sun disk proudly displayed their hardened cloth armour – the leader, a unknown fire monster had a hard clasping hand on one of the stable boys from the palace, tears and snot running down their fuzzy little face made Sans’s magic roil in anger.

‘Well, boy – where are they!?’ The creature demanded, the flames licking at the others body.

‘I-I don’t know.’ The child sobbed out.

‘DON’T LIE TO ME! DO YOU WANT TO END UP LIKE YOUR WORTHLESS LITTLE FRIENDS!?’ The flame monster screamed at the other, making the monster child begins to cry and sob loudly – dropped harshly on the ground and looked about to stomp down on the others skull.

‘This is a temple – I will not allow you to harm an innocent!’ Muffet finally revealed herself – pulling away from Sans. Fury rolling off her in waves at the intruders that dare to kill one of her own and even think about harming an innocent child, she strode purposefully towards the leader of this troupe – it didn’t take a genius to realise that this blatant attack had Grillby’s hot little fingers all over it.

‘What right do you have to come in here with violent intentions?’ She demanded of them, some of the guards looked a little fearful and uncertain of this mission they were given. Sans took notice of that, gesturing to Undyne – who nodded and moved at front, trying to aim at an angle at the snarling private guard.

‘Those who harbour traitors of the Pharaoh and Aten must be punished!’ The leader snapped quickly back, ‘I will not let a little witch stand here and tell me what to do –‘He was stopped halfway his speech with an arrow cutting through the air and going through his eye, he was standing for a moment before falling backwards into dust. Muffet stared unemotionally at the dead soldier turning to the other guards – who all dropped to their knees and threw their weapons away.

Undyne walked out, standing protectively in front of Sans and Alphys – Alphys was staring wide eyed and trembling at the mess the private guards had created. The guards had paled even more at the steely gaze of the royal consort behind the armed monster who killed their leader with one shot.

‘Forgive us mistress.’ They pleaded with Muffet, crying and sobbing.

‘ Nephthys does not forgive...Sans what do you suggest we do to these little traitors?’ Muffet hissed out, forgiveness was far from her mind.

‘Depends...who sent you’ Sans jumped forward, demanding it from them.

‘The Aten high priest – we have been sent to each temple to weed out any enemies of the pharaoh.’ One of the younger guards answered, trembling in fear.

‘Does the pharaoh’s second consort know of this?’ Sans asked lowly, if Grillby knew of this attack...if the other initiated it...

‘Not that we’re aware of.’ Another guard answered.

‘Did you follow us?’ Sans questioned the other annoyed.

‘Yes, but we were not told of you being in the chariot royal consort...’ The same guard answered, clenching his hand against the ground.

Alphys took a sharp intake of breath – that meant that Alphys and Undyne were being watched for a while now but it also meant the child did not tell the guards that Sans was with them. Sans frowned at the thought that his friends had been in danger for a while now – but he turned back to the sobbing child on the ground, Alphys rushed forward and gathered the poor child; fat tears dripped down their face, no longer sobbing loudly but still, a very sad sight.

‘Does anyone know you’re here?’ Sans asked lowly.

‘Only the high priest of Aten knows we are here.’  The guard spluttered out, the full weight of their actions finally being realised.

‘...Well I’m sad to say our conversation is over.’ Sans turned away from the snivelling monsters and back to the High priestess, the mourners had staggered up and walked towards the private guards with hands outstretched like vulture claws, ready to pounce on rancid meat, ‘Muffet, does your spiders eat fresh meat.’

The guards paled, and Muffet grinned sharply at the captured guards.

* * *

 


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

Papyrus was staring down at the plans on his table – the early sun of the rising dawn had not filled the camp yet, so he had the flickering light of a candle. The wax glinting in the fire light, dripping down the column of wax and the blackening of the wick not being put out by the flooding wax, hardening on the metal statuette of Sekhmet – the goddess of war and fire. He stared at the mountain ranges and the trials inked on the parchment, the various encampments of theirs dotted in red while the encroaching humans on their territory were dotted in purple.

The humans were not a civilised force by any means, like the monster nomads that roamed the desert in packs like a bunch of wild dogs; they did not have the organisation of a full-fledged army. Papyrus slumped a little at his desk, rubbing at the bridge of his skull between his eyes – a look on his face probably very similar to that of his own father at his writing desk in their simple villa in the outskirts of the capital.

* * *

 

_Memories of childhood play flashed through his mind, wooden toys and the gardens to run around in – his mother and father tended to try and avoid each other as much as possible and let various tutors and servants act as replacements._

_His mother had only allowed a family portrait to be painted in the family tomb – she was quite sickly at the time, and his father had to be the one to hold Papyrus still as the long process of the painting of the tomb wall. It was the only time Papyrus had seen they feign enjoyment to be in the others company – but if his mother was so unhappy with his father...why did she stay?_

_When she passed, Papyrus didn’t feel much – but it was the first time he had seen Sans, he remembered but he doubted the royal consort did. Sans was younger at the time and looking completely unaware that in the jars sat the dust of his aunt – a monster almost identical to his mother that he was clutching at, griping the long linen robe. As the priests drawled on, incense burning and chanting – Papyrus’s own father was holding him stiffly, like he was afraid to get close to his sister in law even though the Pharaoh was not with his queen._

_The Pharaoh was the reason why his father was retired from his post, the reason he had to flee the capital with his young family – though with the death of Calibri, and possibly the insistence of the queen forced the pharaoh to overturn the banishment. They had a good life, away from their extended families politics – and Pharaoh Gaster was far too busy with the temples and shrines to himself to worry about his wife’s sisters passing._

_And talking about the pharaoh’s queen..._

_As a child, Papyrus was fascinated with the Queen – he had never seen a monster share faces before. His father had said that they were lucky; very few were born as they were (and live, was the unspoken truth) – the four year old skeleton was staring with his big ruby eyes right at him, Papyrus matched the glaze though he knew he should watch the rituals. But it seemed he wasn’t the only one distracted, the imposing Queen Helvetica was almost glaring down at the pots that held the remains of her sister, a chilling look that carried such a deep seeded bitterness._

_Sans, his little cousin stared up at the ten year old skeleton – while Papyrus was young he was told that his form looked to have inherited his father’s height and strength, Papyrus preened under those compliments but secretly assured himself that he would become stronger than his father.  He would be so strong that not even the pharaoh could push him around._

_Papyrus tried to ignore the other – but the smaller skeleton seemed to sense his mother’s own lapse in concentration and waddled over with outstretched arms, a gleeful childish smile stretched across his face with his little sandals slapping against the tiles. The fine reed sandals were far too loud in the smoky hall, the marble pillars stretching to the night sky painted above – the temple of Isis, sister-wife of the king of the underworld._

_Papyrus couldn’t linger at the beauty of the temple of the goddess of magic for far too long, as the others unbalanced steps got ever so closer – not really wanting to cause a scene as the grownups seemed intent on ignoring the younger, as his cousins boredom made him wander._

_Sans seemed on intent on wobbling towards Papyrus, keen to make a new playmate – Sans stumbled a little, the long pleat hanging from  a band of fabric, keeping the child’s modesty while allowing movement for play and childish games, Papyrus had been allowed to wear the older style of robes but still wearing his ornate beaded band. Though not as lovely or jewelled as Sans’s own beaded band – surely a style and glamour reserved for the children of the Queen._

_Sans stumbled a little, losing his footing – Papyrus quickly moved to catch the other but staring in surprise at the glow of magic encasing the falling child, red like the glowing ruby snake eyes of the Queen. Sans looked disappointed as he wiggled mid-air, at the stopped meeting of a new friend as he was being gently floated back slowly to his mother’s side, only to be whisked out of the air again by the stern and strong hand of Papyrus’s father. Sans giggled at that, being cradled in his uncles arms briefly – being put down on the ground again next to Papyrus. The child clutched at Papyrus’s own kilt, he was playing with the stray beads and thread that hung from his sash happily – Papyrus was just happy that the rituals were wrapping up, mourners pulling at their hair, fur and scales as they rubbed ash on their bodies as they wailed. Papyrus was certain his mother knew none of these women wailing from her loss, perhaps they were paid by the Queen – paying someone to cry your tears for you seemed like an amazing idea to Papyrus, you will never have to show you’re weakness to anyone._

_Papyrus looked up briefly to his aunt, only to be met with her hardened gaze – Papyrus wasn’t certain what that expression was, but it wasn’t hate – like his mother’s was most of the time. Papyrus father clasped the child’s shoulder tightly – Helvetica watched others with a deep set frown, the priests and mourners were busy making their way in their sobbing, wailing parade to the others final resting place._

_‘He looks like you.’ Helvetica said distantly, voice cutting though the almost silent temple – the distant cries of the funeral procession still echoed around them in their practised woe. Papyrus noted she did not sound like his mother, she seemed quiet in her emotions while Papyrus’s mother was shill like a vultures scream – calming and soothing but with the way the other held herself  it was only the calm before the raging storm that could come crashing down on them._

_‘... So does yours, praise to the gods he did not get the pharaohs looks’ Papyrus’s father said stiffly, only tightened his grasp on his sons shoulder, staring pointedly at the happy child playing with his sandals, ‘I had heard you were with child... but I thought it was just hearsay.’_

_So much emotion was bleeding out in the others voice, not even his wife and mother of his child on her deathbed could ever bring out that raw pain._

_Papyrus frowned at that tone, it sounded horrible – like his father was accusing the queen of something, and it seemed the other picked up on it too. But Helvetica just looked too tired to be truly angry at her former general,_

_‘A child had to be conceived, the pharaoh is obsessed with his magic-line being passed on further and stronger - but Sans is far too young to show just yet.’ Was all she said, looking forlorn, ‘And, because of my duty being fulfilled the pharaoh allowed me a reward.’ She turned away from the other._

_‘And what was that?’ Arial huffed, annoyed – probably having some choice words to say about the pharaoh._

_‘Your lands and titles are back, a piece of fertile land for farming and cattle too – you are no longer banished from the capital.’ Helvetica said softly._

_‘Tch, he can keep the blasted land and titles...’ Arial snapped, ‘While it may not have been a life your sister enjoyed – me and Papyrus did well for ourselves without the pharaohs charity’ Arial spat out furiously._

_‘Please take it.’ Helvetica said gently, ‘If not for me, but for your son.’_

_Arial clenched his fist, trembling in anger._

_‘We must go soon, lest pharaoh finishes early with his feast.’ She continued with a sad sigh, walking confidently to the other – picking up Sans away from his new friends, flicking her eyes to the other child._

_‘He looks just as you did when you were a child...’ Helvetica said, making Papyrus flush at the warmth of that statement.  His aunt was giving him that look again, a look his own mother never spared to use._

_‘He doesn’t take after my mannerisms...not at all.’ Arial said quietly, ‘And Calibri hated me and him for it...’_

_‘I told her it wouldn’t make her feel better about what had happened – but she never listened to me, truth be told, Gaster would’ve made a fine husband for her. Perfectly content if the whole world was burning outside, as long as they were inside.’ Helvetica held Sans to her chest, the other nodding asleep at the excitement of the day. It was all one big show for the toddler; he still had time to understand exactly what was going on – but the smaller skeleton was tired._

_‘Do you think society could cope with those two in charge, their egos would crush us.’ Arial snorted a little, laughing at the morbid truth of that statement – the shaking laughter continued, but tears flowed down his skull now. Papyrus stared amazed, never had he seen his father cry before – so open and broken he sounded._

_Helvetica looked as though she was going to comfort the other but flinching back at the low question was bit out with clenched teeth,_

_‘Was removing my banishment...was I, worth it?’ Arial said looking to the sleeping toddler; Helvetica stared at the child drooling on her shoulder slightly as he slept. Papyrus saw the gaze come back, warmly staring at her son._

* * *

 

It was only when Papyrus was older, did he realise that gaze was full of love. That was the mysterious emotion the queen could not hide when she gazed upon him and his father, the bright sun stretched across the ground feeling the tent - his day of conquest has began again.

* * *

 

 Sans had sat in the temples shrine room as their attackers were strung up in large web like cocoons – spiders crawled and emerged from the body shaped web sacks, Muffet’s shrine guardian surprisingly did not take the appearance of a bird that was the animal of Nephthys but a large spider.

It was the one that strung up the Aten priests onto the statues staff – seeming though the statue came alive itself and hooked them on. Alphys and Undyne were sitting with the monster child – the poor thing was rocking back and forth, mumbling to his self. He has seen things, horrid things – Sans was not sure how to deal with the child, an orphan taken on board as a servant; it seemed Undyne was trying to soothe the other in her native tongue – it seemed to be a song, and it seemed to calm the child down a little.

Alphys was busily working with one of the mourners to make a batch of ointment for the wounds she could heal. The stabbed mourner was surrounded by the others and Muffet, softly chanting mixing with wails and sobs – but this time, it was most certainly sincere. Everyone was busy, making Sans feel useless in this dark time – the sun was probably up now, absentmindedly placing a hand on his stomach; still a long time before he starts showing so he really can’t think too far ahead but it did rise his spirits.

Sans returned to the box, opening up the box – wondering what deep secret his mother was holding onto even in death. Sans stared in confusion at the pile of aged parchment, written in neat wing dings – they seemed to be received letters and some unsent letters that Helvetica decided to keep.

Why would they all be addressed or from his former uncle, former general Arial – Papyrus’s father?

* * *

 

 please drop a kudos and comment :)


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

Helvetica found herself staring at her half-finished letter – the scratched ink words in wingdings, not entirely sure how to continue such a note.  Would it end in a plea for Arial to swing in and save her or thank the young general for the kind gift of a human book that he acquired from his latest successful campaign?

 Helvetica looked wearily around, knowing that the beautician and various other handmaidens will come in and prepare her for the big feast mother and father were holding in their honour – for their coming of age. Calibri had demanded she got the attention from the beautician and maidens first, and rather than dealing with the others whining Helvetica allowed it taking the extra time not burdened with the clinging, beaded dress that her mother had requested to be made.  It was a beautiful black and red ensemble; it was strung together in a large diamond pattern and was cut lower on her hennaed ribs – being held by a flashy gold sash and her modesty being covered by an ornate collar, with gold and a mix of lapis, sapphires, rubies and red coral.

But that had only made the anxiety rise in her chest, the page was screaming at her in the blankness – she posed the ink drenched reed above the picture, taking a deep breath and began to write.

_General Arial,_

_I would like to thank you for the book._

_Love,_

_Helvetica_

Helvetica stared at the wording a little too long – writing it down didn’t make her feel any better, she folded her letter and placed it inside her ink pot box, adding another unsent letter on top of the  ever increasing pile.

 It was just in time too, with the doors opening to reveal Calibri in all her glittering glory – chattering on and on about all the courtiers being stunned and in awe of her beauty. The beautician and the handmaidens walked inside bringing chests of makeup and the valued dress for the young princess – Calibri’s style of dress was very similar, a beaded dress though in the style of waves of the Nile – in the colours green and blue and a strap looping from the middle of the dress over her left shoulder.

‘Milady – it will be like the very vision of Isis descended down upon us.’ One of the maidens chimed happily, humouring the more spoilt princess, holding the others shoes out for the other to wear.

‘You hear that Hela – like the goddess herself, it’s amazing how only a little bit of magic and makeup can enhance ones natural beauty.’ Calibri gushed; eyes flashing into stars momentarily, as she kicked out her sandal , kicking the kneeling servant in the face – not caring at the servant’s sharp inhale of air to stop the pained scream, Calibri turned her attention to her sister.

Helvetica begrudgingly allowed being directed like a puppet to the servant’s demands, busy bringing over the dress and its sash – wrapping around her body tightly and tying the sash so it would come undone. Calibri stared at herself vainly in the polished copper hand mirror, looking at herself at every angle, Helvetica noticed her sister wear her ornate eye of Horus. It had been a gift from their grandmother to Helvetica, it was hers and the other stole it.

Calibri noticing her twin staring so she snapped out,

‘What? We have to be certain the courtiers can tell us apart sister dearest – and I know you like the plainer things in life, this is much to pretty for a plain loving monster such as yourself.’ Calibri huffed, hiding the necklace from her sisters judging gaze.

‘It’s just a necklace, I can’t help it that we share the same face – perhaps it will distract them from that fact.’ Calibri snarled out, storming out. Helvetica just sighed again – it was their 14th year, and Helvetica was terrified of what would come of it. Calibri had visions of grandeur; her desire of uniqueness was often the reason why she refused anything her sister enjoyed and things she believed she was far more worthy to own

Calibri was far too excited for this celebration, but Helvetica knew that this feast would also reveal who the young princesses would be given to as a bride. This night would surely end in tears for one of them or both of them. And Helvetica felt it was going to be the latter.

* * *

 

The tears of fury streaming down her twins face at the sight of their Father linking her sisters hand with the royal advisers was shocking, especially with her own trembling hand in the strong, confident hand of the General  who looked like he was trying to hold back from ripping his hand from the other. Helvetica was as still as the statues outside the hall, the older monster grinned at her lewdly and her magic crawled, but it seemed as though the jealously of Calibri reared its head again – wanting furiously on what her sister had.

Helvetica would gladly swap, but duty didn't allow it.

* * *

 

 Helvetica's life as the heir to the throne was relatively uneventful – with the ailing pharaoh and the passing of her mother, it fell to Gaster and her act as Regent in the others sickness. Night after night Gaster had taken her to bed, ploughing into her pliant body till she couldn’t feel the pain anymore – truly, she hadn’t the clue on why any woman enjoyed sex other than a means of conceiving a child.

It was over relatively quickly, her husband leaving her chambers soon after – leaving his queen to be staring up at the painted ceiling, eyes flicking to the small statue of Nephthys by her side. It was a decorative ink well, allowing Helvetica to write down her lamenting thoughts – some were unsent letters to Arial, though she had quickly hidden them in fear of her husband finding them, others were begging her families and god’s forgiveness if she could not support this crushing burden. But with every night her husband spent with her, that angst seeded so deep in her soul was beginning to bloom in vivid bitterness and often her once good and kind prayers turning into something vile.

Isfet was about to consume her – and she was uncertain if she wished it to stop. Whether her sister could sense how close Helvetica was slipping or she was being her usual prideful self just added more fuel to the fire.

Calibri had bragged to her sister on what the general was like every chance she, and cruelly implying that Helvetica just wasn’t any good – and Gaster was beginning to look for a second consort. Calibri pried desperately into Helvetica’s sex life, often crudely asked if she was with foal yet – when Calibri was met with a negative, she would sigh in relief; the other had seemed to make it a competition on who will get pregnant faster and who would have an heir to the throne first.

Helvetica didn’t wish to burst her sister’s bubble – but Gaster had gotten very comfortable on the throne...and he would not be willing to give the throne to the child of Arial. Calibri didn’t care for the politics of court or her husband’s trials and fights; she would rather to cocoon herself in the grandeur of court life and further delude herself in thinking Gaster wouldn’t put up a fight.

No matter how happy Calibri claimed to be, she didn’t speak for the general and the poor monster made punching a stone wall seem more worthwhile than trying to get Gaster to care about the encroaching humans and the aggressive nomads. Gaster had been part of the court for many years and had gained strong support from the temple heads – especially from the Aten temple, Arial wasn’t born as part of the court and without her father to rein his court in, and old prejudices of the court reared its ugly head.

 Whenever Helvetica caught a glimpse of the general – his strong bones had more cracks than they did when they were younger, dark marks under his sockets almost rivalled her sisters over indulgence in makeup. A grand feast was being held at the palace and Helvetica couldn’t help but stare at the figure of the general nursing his wine – staring as Calibri flirted and danced with other monsters, Helvetica turned her attention to Gaster; laughing drunkenly with a lap full of one of the servant girls – rolling her eye lights at the sight did she finally stand and make her way to the lone monster.

He was very attractive in the twilight of this day, any time of day he was attractive really – the orange of sun melting away into the blue black with the twinkling stars beginning to wink at them. He forgoes the fancies of court and choosing to wear what he was comfortable in but the beaded neck-piece was probably forced on him by Calibri –it was elegantly simple though.

Arial met her gaze and it seemed time had stopped briefly – the background music and laughing become a low hum around them, both silent though undoubtedly wanting to scream to the heavens and curse the gods of their fate.

A lone tear slipped down Helvetica's face without any control on her part – only for the tear to be wiped away by the stonily faced general, his own woe was cracking under the surface even more so after seeing the young monster break a little.

  The only good thing about that feast was everyone else was too engrossed in their own gluttony and simpering towards the regent, the fanning of Calibri’s ego and her own ideal of what court life should be that no one noticed the queen to be and the general leave the party.

They were not missed that night.

Helvetica lay by the others side in the garden, her fingers entwined with his – Helvetica’s worries only seemed to disappear while in the other’s arms, his hands trailing on her bare bones reverently and placing gentle kisses against her neck. It was nice, and she felt secure in the knowledge that it wasn't any fault of hers for her lack of pleasure with Gaster - but simply the regent cared only for his own end.

What’s the point of upholding ma ’at if it only brought them suffering? It was so easy to succumb to those thoughts, with the loving words from the other and sickly, sweet promises of freedom for them both.

Helvetica deepened the kiss, silencing the others laments on having the wrong twin and It was Helvetica who had his soul and mind though the years – confessing on wanting to steal the young princess away and keep her in his villa for the night, an old custom where two monsters when they enter to live in a house together are registered as married or bonded. While in royal court a feast was normally held, it was the way Arial’s mother and father had joined – Helvetica flushed at the idea on the other bringing her to their own villa away from the court, the romantic idea of Arial sweeping her off her feet and dancing with her though the threshold - and having her in bed as wife.

But the ball and chain of the throne was to keep them apart, leaving them to pretend a little while longer that the fantasy life they could’ve shared was closer than they thought.

* * *

 

It was the wet season that the news broke of queen’s pregnancy – the magic burned as Helvetica heaved into a basin that the servants brought to the poor queen, it was the night of the feast of Gaster’s official title of Pharaoh with the death of Helvetica’s and Calibri’s father.  Helvetica didn’t feel like celebrating, and neither did Calibri – she had snapped angrily at Arial saying that she has to be with her sister in her time of need. Arial had been busy trying to keep the military from turning against the newly crowned Pharaoh and the already strained relationship of Calibri and the general had only gotten worse with Helvetica’s pregnancy.

But with the way Calibri was glaring at her sister, Helvetica really didn’t want her here.

‘I have tried everything, and you – the monster who doesn’t give a damn, is blessed with a child first.’ Calibri snarled lowly, Helvetica waved the servants away but keeping the basin - to save whatever remaining face of her sister from the gossiping servants...though it was a bit pointless with the amount of times the other screamed her displeasure at the servants.

‘I don’t know what you want me to say.’ Helvetica said calmly, but the other stood up angrily

‘I WANT A CHILD SO MUCH, AND SO DOES THAT FOOLISH SOLDIER!’ Calibri screeched, doing what she always did; ripping the attention away from her sister and forcing it all on her.

‘Maybe he is infertile...’ Calibri huffed thoughtfully; Helvetica had to force back the smirk – hiding her face by heaving again. Unlike her sister, which she was certain she didn’t bother to read on childbirth or conceiving, Helvetica had kept track on her heat cycle in a book out of interest and chatting with Alphys a young healer that just opened up her own shop recently. And with the way she was feeling sick now and the beginning of when her magic began supporting another life – Alphys had been called in to determine the magical combination of the child, and it confirmed her suspicions, the barely developed core had no trace of Gaster’s magic on it.

But rather it was Arial’s.

For once, Helvetica took something from her sister – and it made her a little giddy because of it but at the same time it made her soul buzz and churn in worry. Calibri turned, sockets narrowing at the slight smirk on her sisters’ face – Helvetica pretended to heave again when the other noticed her expression.

* * *

 It had become difficult to wear the tighter fitting dresses with her ecto-body swelling as the soul of the infant grew and began to form a mess of soft bones – trying to form a protective shell around the small heart, tethered to its mother’s larger soul. Gaster had got her to wear revealing clothes to show off her child and the soft swells of her chest that had formed and stayed for a while now – it was some odd power play between the general and the pharaoh. 

Gaster drummed his fingers against his chair irately, smile strained at how the court gushed happily at his queens expected bundle, and the lack of attention to himself was slowly getting to him. Helvetica couldn’t help the excited flush that filled her face for the first time for a long time; it was her sisters’ time to wish the royal couple all the best. She did it very curtly and zero sincerity, Helvetica expected less from her honestly – but with her sisters husband falling further out of favour with the last failed battle, the court blaming the general rather than the Pharaoh who had cut wages, equipment and the bad conditions they were forced in and so the general was not seen around the palace often now.

Calibri took to the change of standing as well as you could imagine and refused to feel her sister belly for her growing niece or nephew – in spite, but Helvetica could find she couldn’t care less about the other anymore. She had grown, Calibri remained the same – funnily enough, the one who desired uniqueness was the one who did not gain it.

It was the General that stepped forward – making Helvetica jump in surprise at the warmth at the others hand, cupping the curve of the others belly. Gazing lovingly at the unformed infant, it was such an intimate motion the flare of magic from the pharaoh was enough to make the others jump back in fear and Calibri stare like she was finally seeing something clearly for the first time in her life – Gaster grabbed the general’s wrist and ripped it from his queens’ belly.

Helvetica sat tensed as both when seemed to be sizing the other up, Gaster said lowly, ‘the Queen grows wary, I’m going to return her to her chamber.’ Helvetica was pulled up a little roughly; Gaster had wrapped a possessive arm around the queens’ middle – sharp fingers digging in her soft ecto belly slightly as he lead her out.

Helvetica saw how Arial’s hand twitched to where he normally held his blade and the pinched, furious expression on Calibri’s face.

* * *

 

Helvetica was expecting something, but the banishment of the General and Calibri was not expected – Calibri glared so hatefully at her sister, and her unborn child as she was desperately packing her belongings before she would be forced out of the palace.

‘Sister – I have made arrangements for you to be allowed back for the birth of my son...’ Helvetica said softly.

‘Yours and my husband’s son you mean?’ Calibri snarled not looking upon the other.

‘...’ Helvetica's eyes widened, looking wildly around - their were no servants around to overhear thankfully.

‘I’m not stupid – do you think I didn’t notice how you looked at Arial when we were children.’ Calibri snarled furiously, ‘How he looked at you...I thought, he would grow to love me like he loved you.’

‘Why did you think that, because we share a face?’ Helvetica snapped out, ‘Love is never based on appearance, it’s deeper than that.’

‘ Then am I unloved!?’ Calibri demanded of her sister, finally losing it – flinging one of her expensive perfumes on the ground – the sickly sweet scent of jasmine filled the room. The stark reminder that neither are happy with their parents choices for them, it haunted them.

‘And whose fault is that?’ Helvetica asked, feeling like how their mother did all those years ago when Calibri threw a tantrum.

‘...’ Calibri wiped the tears that began to form away, ‘A child’s love is unconditional...and mother is like a god to them, can you fault me for wanting that?’

‘You always have been a selfish, horrible monster and no amount of children will fill the emptiness you ripped open with your bare hands.’ Helvetica said bluntly and honestly – ignoring the smashing of her sisters things.

‘Why?! What have I done to the gods to be born barren with another who shares my face to be born fertile?’ Calibri was brought to her knees crying, and Helvetica could only feel disgust and a twinge of pity as the other clutched her dress like a little child that scrapped their kneecaps while playing.

‘I don’t know what you want me to do, Cali.’ Helvetica said gently, using the others nickname which seemed to calm the other down a bit. Calibri sniffled and face hardened in anger and bitterness again,

‘I want you to give me my child, I deserve it – I have been fateful to my husband, I have followed him the road he lead fatefully as the general of the pharaoh’s army and here I am – following him in his banishment.’ Calibri closed her sockets, ‘I may not love him the way you ever did sister, but I am a loyal and dutiful wife – Arial deserves an heir and not some bastard son on the throne.’

‘What you ask of me...’ Helvetica began lowly, being pregnant in her first year of marriage to the pharaoh had ceased the unwanted visits during the night – it would start again and that made Helvetica very afraid.

‘I know I haven’t been a good sister, I never tried – but please, do this one thing for me...if not for me then for Arial.’ Calibri sobbed, she knew very well that she could report the queens affair to the pharaoh but that could very well led to her own untimely death as well as Arial’s.

‘I will call on you when the child is due.’ That was all Helvetica said, leaving her sister to her packing of her items of value or use to where they were travelling to.

* * *

 

It had been shockingly simple to replicate a miscarriage – with the assistance of Alphys and a few loyal midwives had assisted the queen in her plan, Calibri had been called to the palace with slight padding under her clothes. She claimed the time away from the court had blessed her and made a point of chatting about a possible wedding match between her child and her sisters – Gaster had either ignored the others suggestion or was chatting to other people.

Helvetica stood only to feign severe pain of her labour starting suddenly – the palace immediately becoming a buzz of excitement and worry as according to the royal physicians it was far too early (when the time it was possibly conceived by the pharaoh, not when Arial had lain with her)

Helvetica took full advantage of being taken by the servants and midwives to the birthing pavilion, the pharaoh was strictly forbidden from entering it while the queen was in labour. Leaving Helvetica with only those she trusted and sister – the labour was long and painful, made even worse when she had agreed to her sisters’ request, not out of sisterly love but for Arial – the man had deserved a child and would make a wonderful father. She couldn’t take that away from him.

The child had been born at midnight, a healthy baby boy – it would normally sound out bells to alert the kingdom of the child’s arrival and gender, but none sounded out.

‘I always liked the name Papyrus...’ Helvetica said softly – body and magic exhausted, nursing the child briefly – pain rippling through her soul when Cambria took the tightly wrapped baby from her sisters weakened grasp and passing it to the wet nurse, the child took to suckling at the offered teat well.

What a lovely little boy, was the last thing Helvetica thought – falling into an unrestful rest, her sister and wet-nurse quickly left before a servant of the pharaoh burst in, questioning on how the labour went.

Somehow, the young healer Alphys found the hardness and strength to lie straight to the Pharaohs face – while one of the midwives held a small jar, staring at it so sadly, and a cat had been sacrificed in this lie. Its dust was placed inside a sealed jar reserved for monster infants.

‘I’m so sorry my king, the child did not make it past its first breath.’ Alphys bowed her head sadly, the others face dropped – not in a way that reflected the death of a child, but rather the expression was that of a child that didn’t get their newest toy. Any guilt Alphys felt about it disappeared almost instantly at the kings face – she tried not to show any disgust on her face as the other continued,

‘And the how is the queen?’ Gaster asked - some concern, not enough however.

‘She is well physically but mentally...’ Alphys began only to be cut off by the king

‘Oh good, well, there is always a next time then.’ Gaster waved the other off in a bored fashion, ‘Your duty to the crown will be remembered and be paid back in full.’

* * *

 That was the story Sans could piece together from the assortment of letters and journal entries from his mother – staring at his covered stomach in a mix of doubt and surprise. That would mean Papyrus was eldest heir to the throne and his half-brother and father to his unborn children – the expression on his face was enough to warrant Alphys and Undyne to ask how he was only to flinch back at the loud gleeful laughter that erupted from his small body.

When he got to the palace he was unsure if he was going to kill Alphys for not letting him know of that connection or hug her because of her lack of interference he secured the throne back from his father and Grillby – when Papyrus returned he and his soldiers are going to run out the old pharaoh and his harem out of the palace. He and Papyrus will rule together, Pharaoh Papyrus...it had such a nice ring to it.

Sans didn’t care if he looked insane to the others – this was the happiest he’s been in years.

* * *

 TBC

 


	13. Chapter 13

* * *

Papyrus sat stiffly on his horse; the scorching midday sun framed his form as he looked on in disgust – taking in the abandoned and charred tents of the nomadic humans that were encroaching in the pharaoh’s territory.  Failed crops, drought ridden corpses of animals and a dust dry well – flies and maggots called this place home now. There hasn't been any humans here for a long time.

‘I don’t understand...the pharaoh had told us that this was the camp approaching.’ A tall lizard monster had said confused – pulling at out the order, ‘They had attacked merchants?’

‘Not recently it seems...’ They surveyed the charred fabric flapping in the dry heat, the aura of death surrounded the site - the paws of Anubis digging graves for the dead, or chewing on the rotting remains. The frightened looks on the rotting faces showed clearly that their passing was not peaceful, the men of their kind had been strung up and gutted on the brittle bare limbs of the tree - branches stretching to the sky and the bulbous trunk was swollen with water like an overly pregnant woman, like how some of the scattered females, but life had ceased to grow when their mothers passed on.

Papyrus ignored the wary chatter, drawing his sword as he trekked  though what seemed to be a nomadic herding community warily – herding their animals though the desert, in a constant search of water and the rare greenery that began life in the wet season.

They normally avoid well away from monsters, the only smart ones of their kind it seemed – even trading with some of the peaceful nomadic monster tribes, marriage was frowned on between their kind but it seemed to happen. Depending on the half breeds village they were either killed at birth, banished or ignored. One of the woman's body seemed to be surrounded almost protectively by a ring of dust and clothes without an owner - monster dust.

Papyrus pushed the side of the female humans face with his sandal , relatively unmarked unlike the others who he had seen clothes torn and stained with dry blood - her brunette hair was messy and done in style similar to that of a monster would do if they had long enough fur and hair. Her side of her head seemed to be cracked - hitting the ground hard with the attack, Papyrus turned back to the dust and the clothes - the male tunic sleeve was slung over the woman protectively and blood not her own seemed to have stained her colourful robes. Papyrus turned away from the corpse, the dim eyes seemed to stare at him and judge him for his own sins.

‘They didn’t have time to bury their dead.’ A younger solider muttered, gagging at the smell – tripping over a fleshy corpse, a scorpion crawled out of its gaping mouth making the soldier jump further back and his comrade quickly spearing it. He lifted it up with a grim look, the body was still twitching fanatically, bulbous sting striking the air – black shell gleaming in the sun, like shiny onyx.

The tenseness in the air was stifling; his men he trained to be strong and not be afraid were looking wearily around – the calm before the storm.

Papyrus wandered further, trying to gather more information on what had happened – trying to ignore how similar the broken wooden toys were to the ones he had seen little monster children drag around.

‘General, what do you want us to do?’ The tall lizard asked the skeleton, only to be ignored – Papyrus knelt down on the sandy ground, something lay glinting under the thin coat of sand. He gently dug his claws around it, the sand draining from his bony fist  - turning it around and opening his fist, it was a golden medallion with the sun disk of Aten on it.

‘Get back on your horses.’ Papyrus said lowly, standing to full height – sharp crimson bones swirled around him in his agitation, the summons formed from spiralling wingdings; the script of his spell whispering urgently as his soul pulsed in the building danger.

‘What?’ The lizard asked stunned at the sharpness of the others demands.

‘GET BACK ON YOUR HORSE NOW!’ Papyrus bellowed, but that was when he heard the spark of flame igniting around his men and his own horse – forming quickly into a large spiralling snake, it’s flaming coils burning his men and entrapping them. The poor horses were panicking horribly, bucking and rearing to get away from the wall of death – some throwing their riders in the gaping maw of the fire snake.

A horde of monsters appeared from the tents they had hidden from – their leader was a green fire girl, with cruelty blazing in her eyes.

Papyrus threw a barrage of bones, which she dodged easily – Papyrus then summoned green flame monster shielded desperately – surrounding herself in a sun like sphere, it cracked under the force of Papyrus’s blast; a shard of her own summon cut her cheek.

The other soldiers of Aten, the army of the sun as they called themselves – were controlling the serpent to constrict further onto his men, their panicked screams made Papyrus’s eyes ablaze even brighter – calling down a large clawed paw to swipe at the white clad figures, knocking a few out and slowing the constriction.

‘Have I done something to offend you and your cause?’ Papyrus bellowed at her, snarling readying for another attack – the green flame monster glared back, wiping her smoking cheek .The shield was reforming around her, but it was sparking dangerously.

‘YOUR VERY EXISTENCE BRINGS OFFENCE TO ATEN; WE WILL CEASE YOUR TRAITOROUS MAGIC LINE BEFORE YOU CAN DESTROY EVERYTHING WE WORKED FOR!’ She screamed out, Papyrus tried to shield himself when the others sphere of swirling magic finally burst like a supernova – his dog like skeleton summon tried to curl around his host in time but the blast was far too strong.

The last thing Papyrus saw was the blinding bright light and feeling the searing heat ripple though his bones

* * *

 

 Undyne and Alphys had agreed to take in the silent monster child, traumatised by what he witnessed in where he used to tend to the horses. The child would make an excellent help to the healer and Undyne, they will do well to keep the child busy to stop his mind falling back on the severed remains of his friends - strung up in their favourite date palm tree.

When they had ridden back into the palace walls they were met with the wails and cries of some of Grillby’s servants and the gossiping of other palace servants.

Undyne and Alphys quickly made their move to leave the palace before they garnered any attention to themselves, leaving the royal to the carnage that awaited him inside his home. Sans followed the raised voices and sobbing easily enough, finding himself within the throne room - half expecting Gaster to be sentencing a poor soul to death over a minor transgression.

What he did not expect was to see a bleeding Grillby and a drunken Gaster standing over him in the throne room – the servants unsure on what to do, should they try and stop the pharaoh or not do anything.

They seemed to choose the latter.

Sans ran forward instinctively, placing himself between the injured fire monster and his father – stilling his father’s hand just before he was slapped himself.

‘Sans...?’ Gaster slurred confused, ‘I heard you went to the temple...if I knew I would have never...I thought they would’ve hurt you.’ Gaster mumbled, ‘It was all Grillby’s idea...’ the pharaoh childishly blamed his second consort.

Grillby was nursing his injured face tearfully, Sans was angry at the flame monster – but while he may have been the idea, the pharaoh was still the destructive hand, the destructive hand shaking from drink.

 ‘My pharaoh I am fine, I just wished to farewell that place and the past – you are my future and present, I need nothing else.’ Sans lied, hugging Gaster tightly – the drunken fool hugged back desperately, did he really think he would have been killed? Did he want him killed?

‘I only did it because I had your best interests in mind, my Pharaoh!’ Grillby sobbed, ‘The military and those dark magic filled places of worship are tainted with the corrupted past, your general is the son of the man who poisoned your queen.’

The whole world stopped in that moment, that accusation...Sans turned from his drunken pharaoh, to the cowering flame monster and slapped him. That’s impossible, Arial loved Helvetica...Arial wouldn’t do that – Grillby sobbed louder at the pain of being grabbed,

‘Why would you say something like that? Why do you lie?! ’ Sans snapped at the other, shaking him with a strength he didn’t know he had. The fear he felt, when the children were born – Sans will be replaced just like how Gaster replaced Helvetica?

‘Did you think it was out of the Pharaohs good graces that he let Papyrus train his army?’ Grillby smirked at the consort, ‘He wants to embarrass him...’Grillby giggled. Sans stilled, turning to the pharaoh - looking guiltily at his feet at his chief consorts look, Sans turned back to the flame monster. 

‘What did you do...?’ Sans asked lowly and dangerously, tightening his grasp, ‘WHAT DID YOU DO?!’

‘Imagine the infamy of killing half of our young monsters, monsters that will no longer return home, monsters that will not see their own children grow...’ Grillby drawled lowly, smirking as the other raised a hand to strike the other again.

‘The pharaoh will become popular with the people again, no longer by being obscured by Papyrus’s own unearned fame.’

Oh god, the only reason Gaster would've allowed this would have been because he believed it as somewhat truth - blaming someone else for Helvetica's own sickness was easier than claiming the responsibility himself, and the sheer disrespect they are showing to the people they rule other is beyond sickening. It's almost if they want to see how much they burn before the people rise up and kill them all.

‘Unearned? He has brought you riches; he has killed your enemies for you.’ Sans snapped at the others idiocy, both of their idiocy - has their ego and vanity caused the fall of the great general?!

‘No mortal should rise higher than Pharaoh, to do so is to rise above the gods themselves.’ Gaster said in a agreeing fashion, but Sans's ire was burning hot for Grillby - the other had fanned this destructive fire in Gaster - given him the support to commit such heinous acts to his people and court. The other is going to take full responsibility for the chaos they caused without a care.

‘You sicken me, you fire tongued snake!’ Sans hissed out to the other.

‘Sans...’ Gaster pulled him away from striking the other again, dropping the snivelling monster – Sans trembled in the others grasp, while his father cooed at him.

Grillby staggered to stand, looking angrily at how the drunk Pharaoh cradled his chief consort gently –being half supported in his drunkenness, at least the other was too out of it to question Sans’s own tears at that revelation on the general.

Sans dragged his father away, but not till he snapped back at the flame monster with the child steadily swelling his frame – a child of the others own creation, a child not of Gaster’s magic line.  A child growing within Sans too, if it was true on what the other says - they are going to grow without their true father, and Sans would not wish Gaster as a father to his children either.

‘You are so quick to use and throw away people, I wonder how long it would be before the pharaoh throws you away?’ Sans questioned the fire monster bitterly, which the other had no answer to.

* * *

 Papyrus finally came to, staring at the sun – his bones stinging as if burnt and sand rubbing coarsely against his frame. Another thing he noticed was that he was being dragged in a long reed basket or mat, it was a re-purposed sleep mat from one of the tents , tied tightly down as the smell and familiar grunt of camel alerted him of the beast that was dragging him from it's saddle. Upon it's saddle, was attached a mix match of weapons stolen from his soldiers - a sheep stomach sloshing side to side with water, taunting the thirsty monster and what looked to be a red basket probably filled with dried meat or their prize from hunting.  

He stared confused and weak against the tight ties, the odd mutterings of a language he didn’t understand – his head was aching horribly and unable to see his rescuers from the desert, it seemed he was beaten unconscious and his men killed. Being left to die in the depths of the sandy dunes by his attackers, sent by the Aten temple, and staged by the pharaoh himself.

When he gets back, he is going to remove the Pharaohs head – or perhaps it should be ‘if’ he gets back.

From what he could to tell, it was two small riders in cloaks with hoods to protect themselves from the sun and sand storms – the one at the back turned to him, messy brown hair and eyes squinting at the sun smiled and waved gently at him, the fount rider snapped at the other in their odd language; crimson tattoos on their cheeks but other than that they could’ve been twins. Papyrus felt wildly around for his sword, but it was strung up at the side of the camel - obviously it had been removed by them.

Oh gods, they were two human children.

‘Humans, where are you taking me?’ He bellowed up at them, voice rasping, the second rider tilted their head in confusion – Papyrus swore, just realising how he was speaking was probably just as confusing as there’s been.

The human chattered back happily, uncaring if he understood what he said or not – only to be nudged by the front rider. They were making wild gestures to the far horizon, a wall of sand was steadily growing, and they nudged the camel to move faster towards one of the rare rocky walls in the desert. It was a huge rock with a convenient little crevice big enough for a camel and for 3 full grown humans or two children and one skeleton comfortably.

They entered the crevice, both riders getting the camel to seat – it let out a low droning grunt as it folded its legs to seat comfortably, dragging the immobile skeleton under cover as well.

The red cheeked child glared at him, while the other dimly smiled – not looking very bright, the red cheeked one walked off mumbling, beginning to build a fire while leaning against the camel that blinked lazily at the small child that fumbled with the flint and dry wood and yep, dung.

It wasn’t happening no matter how much the child tried, frustrated at how the other fumbled. The other rider picked up on the monsters frustration, and began to undo the straps that held his once immobile body tight – red cheeks made panicked noises at that, with the other answering back comfortably gesturing to his injured leg and arm. It’s not that bad but he wouldn’t be able to run off or attack them, his magic took a more severe beating than his body – it would take him a full night of sleep and a day to heal to regain his magic, briefly wishing he had some of that ointment that Sans had rubbed on his body...but it wouldn’t do to become aroused in this predicament.

Papyrus raised his hands in calming motion, opening a hand for the other to give him the stone – red cheeks glared but after some gently nudging from their companion gave over the flint which Papyrus quickly lit the sticks and fuel in a flash of motion and sparks. Hobbling away from the humans to his own corner, the wind picking up bringing up even more sand and dust, the two humans were young – far younger than he had ever fought, neither seem to be well equipped to handle the desert by them.

The red cheeks glared at him, his body in a constant protective stance in front of the dim one - who, Papyrus tried not to feel too angry at how the other had pulled out the limp body of a huge desert lizard, skewering the skinned lizard with one of his soldiers swords - beginning to cook the gelatinous flesh. Papyrus magic turned at the smell of cooking meat, his men caught in flames flashed within his minds eye - the dim one muttered something to their companion, who had taken over cooking the meat with the other pulling out a wooden cup and getting the camel to shift slightly with a grunt.

Papyrus stared out at the wails of the sands rush around them harmlessly in their cave or hiding hole, breaking out of his thoughts when the other dim human offered a bowlful of  fresh camel milk -Papyrus took it from the other gently, who smiled at him happily, quickly returning to the fires side. A thank you perhaps on helping start the fire without words.

Their manner of clothes seem to be similar of the human nomads, like some of the bodies he had seen in that small village – red cheeks was rocking in front of the fire, muttering while holding a talisman of a flower. Papyrus winced when he shifted, hand clasping tightly the bowl, pulling out from his kilts belt his own talisman of protection – grasping in tightly in his fist so the humans wouldn’t notice how terrified he was, probably just as scared as they were.

* * *

'Yip Yip.' Chara called to the camel, their little brother snoozing against her shoulder though the long trek back to their village - they couldn't really stay too long in the human encampment, with the risk of the humans noticing the colour of her eyes or the odd kindness that her little brother seemed to show to everyone. They had stayed too long before, and with the cries and fearful wails of 'demon', 'half lings', 'changelings' or Chara's lest favourite, 'witch child.'

That one felt a little too close to truth, she loved her mother but she couldn't stop the traitorous thoughts and wonders of how the other ensnared the son of a monster chieftain. Chara wished to met her grandfather, but had been told sharply that they would not understand, they will kill them. They were safe in the village, they were safe while the other humans pretended they did not exist.

Frisk yawned  and pulled away from their sister, brightening at the sight of their village in the distance but small smile falling at the sight of the smoke rising high in the sky - Chara noticed too, slowing their entry warily back in the familiar desert landscape.

'Chara?' Frisk timidly asked as they came to a halt, the camel setting their two rider down obediently while they surveyed the devastation, Frisk wordlessly walked to the slumped woman on her side - falling to their knees, brushing his mothers hair with his fingers, combing out the tangles and dry blood. The beads he loved to play with when he was younger was clinking together as her hair fell limply back on her face, Frisk gently closed her unseeing eyes.

'...' Chara stared at the motionless corpses, knowing that she should feel something - gaze softening at the sight of her rocking sibling, hugging their mother tightly; ignoring the buzzing flies. Chara pressed a hand against the child's head in comfort, but stiffly going to cut a lock of their mothers beaded hair with a small dagger, one for them and one for Frisk.  Frisk clutched it tightly in their dirty hands, sand and blood colouring them.

Chara stared at her father clothes, covered in dust and some of their mothers blood - she took them gently, the cloud of dust was all that remained of his kind words and smile, the sand under him was still wet with dust and blood. Chara had pressed her hand in the muck and made her cheeks rosy with it, Frisk just stared at his sisters stone cold face - warpaint made from the combination of their parents very being.

Frisk sniffled, but quickly followed Chara's directions to pick up what they could - things they could use or sell, collecting fabric and cloth. The nicest cloth Frisk found was taken and wrapped around their mother with string, had their father had a physical body still - he would've been given the same treatment, Chara was busy surrounding the area of land they found their parents at with stones. She worked diligently, covering the wrapped figure, while it wasn't a proper burial - it was all they could do.

Frisk was making his rounds around, stumbling upon a still intact monster - a skeleton type - Frisk could see the other was badly hurt. Frisk hovered their hand over the monsters mouth, laboured breath hit the flesh of their hand. He was in a soldiers outfit though.

'Chara!' Frisk called for their sister, who had quickly joined their brothers side - a stolen sword in their hand.

'This one is still breathing...'

'Oh...' Chara said distantly, lifting up the knife to strike down on the faintly breathing monster. Frisk moved in front of the other quickly.

'Wait, he could help us!' Frisk said wildly.

'Like hell he can!' Chara snapped, going to strike down again but stopped again.

'He looks strong like papa, and maybe he can do magic like papa too.' Frisk offered the other, making his sister sigh.

'Look at his clothes Frisk, he has probably butchered many humans, monsters and half-breeds like us!' Chara gestured to the military uniform of the other, torn and burnt but it was not just worn for fun.

'He can help us, he can protect us - at least till we get to the next town.' Frisk said again.

'The next town...it's in monster territory!' Chara snapped at her brother, going to grab him - Frisk remained absolute however.

'If we don't take him, then i'll nurse him back to health here.' Frisk stomped their foot, small child, wearing their good little heart on their sleeve.

'Frisk...' Chara began lowly, becoming more annoyed when the other hugged the others skeletal body close to their own.

'Papa helped humans and monsters with his magic, maybe they didn't thank him for it - but he did it because it was the good thing to do.' Frisk said, blind looking eyes blazing - opening briefly to look as his sister.

'Frisk...you are too pure for this world.' Chara groaned, looking to the passed out figure, not trusting the unconscious skeleton.

'Fine, but we need rope and something to drag him with...' Chara conceded, Frisk grinned at his sister going off to find the items needed. Chara clenched the handle of the sword as she looked upon the monster, time will tell if this will bring ruin or luck to them.

* * *

  _drop a kudos and comment if you liked :)_

_anyway, in case i get any angry comments about how i gave a gender to Chara and Frisk...can you not please? whether you think they are gender less children or have a gender, in this work of fiction Chara is a girl and Frisk is a boy. I only mention this because i know how some of the fandom is with this in the undertale story and how picky some are. kay? i love you guys but do not bug me on that, kay? kay *thumbs up*_


	14. Chapter 14

Warnings for this chapter, implied miscarriage and character death :(  

* * *

 

Sans had found himself protected in the increased favour of his father and husband – Grillby stumbled away from the drunken blow up with the Pharaoh that night,  further distancing himself when the royal physician had confirmed that Sans was  pregnant with twins and that news spread like wild fire though rumours and stories.

Some of the stories hit too close to the truth, some of the rumours claimed that the Gods were so pitying of Sans’s childlessness that the blessed brood was sired by Horus himself, or it was Isis blessing the other with her magic, or all the visits to Hathor’s temple finally bared fruit.

The other rumours of course circulated in hushed breath, how the children were not the Pharaoh’s but rather in fact the fallen general’s and that’s why the Pharaoh killed him... though they feared to voice their thoughts with the royal guards cracking down on “traitors”. The prisons were filled to the brim with the poorest of their people, unable to pay their taxes and the commoners who spoke up against the establishment.

Sans found himself staring out from his throne to the sprawling city below, the mood had dimmed considerably – the talk of radical followers of Aten being seen killing monster children,  the fear of the general not being around to keep them in check had made the usual bustling marketplace missing a few of their stalls with some of the owners being in jail.

The bright sun glinted on the white limestone coated buildings, standing vigil as the thin squad of guards made their rounds. Past the buildings stood the farmland, more sandy dunes seemed to be encroaching onto the green lands with each passing year.

‘I don’t see how this matter really concerns me.’ Gaster drawled lowly to the grovelling farmers on the palace floor.

When a group of farmers had come forward to voice their concerns to the pharaoh, Gaster had been quick to wave off their concerns – instead taking the time to proudly showcase San’s growing body – more keen on showing off Sans, Sans tried to zone out the best he could, though immediately stilling when the farmer’s son had directed a question to Sans instead,

‘Fair and noble Sans, perhaps you have some wisdom to assist us in our problem.’ It was innocently asked enough – but the farmers tensed just as suddenly as the Pharaoh did.

The throne room was cut though with the sharp laughter from the Pharaoh made Sans narrow his gaze, his subversive act could only take so much.

‘My chief consort doesn’t have the knowledge - ‘Gaster waved off the young farmhand’s question,  their scaly face flushing in embarrassment – looking ready to apologise only to be cut off curtly by the answer

‘Harvest whatever disease free crop you can, store it in the silos – purge the waste with fire and place new fertile mud in the  land by the Nile and use the healthy grain to start a new field.’ Sans then turned to Gaster, ‘I’m certain we can arrange for extra grain silos to be built if needed – it would be a community effort of course, the farms would have to work together but will be paid equally and evenly.’

‘That land was for a temple in your honour, my dearest.’ Gaster said lowly, ‘A grand gift to the bearer of my children.’

‘My Pharaoh, the people are in need of rot free land – the peoples need is greater than my own.’ Sans said gently, trying to stop the harsh tone reveal itself. Gaster slumped in his throne, looking immensely troubled.

‘The health of our people is the only gift I desire – my Pharaoh.’ Sans said sweetly, placing a hand over Gaster’s. The elder skeleton frowned but unwilling to deny such a request, especially in fount of the leaders of the farming community – they are seasoned  monsters and know how to work the land, making enemies with the people who grow your food is never a wise thing to do.

The farmers looked amongst themselves; Gaster drummed his fingers against the armrest of his throne – Sans kept his mouth tightly clenched, feeling the anxiety of the situation roll over him.

‘Well then, you heard my consort’s suggestion.’ Gaster huffed dismally, horrible at hiding at how annoyed he was.

The farmhand grinned, and bowed his head to the pharaoh and gave a soft smile to Sans thankful. The farmers all left bowing, thanks and praises.

The poor harvest that stuck the crops, rot running rampant in the wheat – Sans’s own sudden fertility was met with a mix of delight and suspicion amongst the very religious. Hopefully Sans’s own intervention would show good faith to the working class. Sans just didn’t want to end up like his great grandparents – hacked to pieces with farming tools is not the most graceful of deaths, Sans would prefer to go the way of poisonous snake to breast...sounds like something they might talk about for a long time.

When the last of the grievances were aired leaving the royals finally alone in the humid throne room, Gaster had wrapped Sans in a warm embrace, but the whispers of the news rattled the court – a child born from a blessed magic line that had the strength to lead their country to wealth and strength was what they had prayed for. But, it didn’t change the dangerous fact on the increased radicalness of those who follow Aten, and those who follow Grillby’s father and high priest.

Sans pulled away from the Pharaoh, as the King was called urgently to meet with the heads of the temples – clawing at the Pharaoh to reign in the fanatics of Aten, with one consort desperately entwined with the church and another whose magic comes from an recently attacked temple. Gaster had promised to use funds to build a bigger and better one – the high priestess of Nephthys refused the others help,  just as Sans expected from Muffet. But now Sans was finally alone but not at peace.

Sans stared out to the rolling dunes from the window, hand placed gently against the swell of his growing stomach – out past the safety of the green hills of Horus in the very maw of Seth himself. Grillby had been pretty much ignored with his own burden - his own due date was growing closer by the day and had been restricted to stay in his rooms, he felt sick regularly.

Sans, a long time ago would’ve felt sorry for the fire monster – but you reap what you sow.

Those faithful to the old ways and the missing general were slain with the raid on the human village – the lie that the pharaoh was feeding the people was of the humans attacking first, it wasn’t, just some conniving way to remove someone becoming more popular than the Pharaoh. The Aten’s temples own private military was witnessed firsthand – though it seemed they got the runt of the litter, not expecting the high priestess to fight back just as hard; the brawn of the guards must have been sent to deal and meet up with the soldiers.

Sans had felt...nothing, like his soul had been stolen away – a hollow husk of a skeleton that wondered the marbled halls. Gaster had made himself quickly scarce from both his consorts when he could – he was the favourite of neither at the moment, he was not the favourite of the people either.

 Under the guise of abiding by the physicians advice to avoid giving them any stress in this crucial time at their pregnancy, but really it was just an excuse to face neither of them.

Coward.

Sans stared at the unopened tribute paid by the common folk, the pile had gotten smaller by the year and Bast sat curled on her pillow, taking any cushion left on the ground as hers, sleeping the heat of the day away. Sans watched her sleeping form contently, gaining some peace from the snoozing cat.

But it was short lived as he turned and went on his way to his own chambers – though stilling at the sound of a pained whine coming from Grillby’s side of the palace, the long hallway was empty.

Sans glared and followed the sound down to the inner chambers.

* * *

 

Papyrus lead the camel though the desert – the smallest child had taken the seat on the beast while the red cheeked taller girl kept an watchful eye on him, hand with dagger. The dagger belonged to his second in charge, Papyrus had to hold back the anger at it being held by a Halfling child of all things – he wanted to return it to his family at least, for something they could place in their tomb.

Papyrus was still injured, and while he could probably take out the two humans – what use would that be, his men were wiped out and what solider would he be by killing two children? Papyrus’s thoughts darkened, he was nothing like the soldiers of Aten.

‘You’re Halfling’s...’ Papyrus tried, even though he knew that they couldn’t understand him; but the silence was killing him – the red cheeked one glared harder at him, ‘You’d think your sire would’ve taught you some of our tongue.’

‘Frisk was too young...’ They began softly, turning away from the limping skeleton – surprising him briefly. Papyrus was annoyed that all this time the other could understand him, but spitefully ignored him – chatting with their younger brother in their own tongue who was trying to stay awake.

‘Besides, chatting to monsters raiding your village was not the first thing to come to mind...’ the red cheeked human muttered, ‘Frisk would’ve tried to reason with them, but some monsters are not worth the air they breathe.’

‘Yes – I agree full heartedly.’ Papyrus snarled out, clenching his fist – the leather reign was hot in his hand. Though the human tilted their head at the strange comment, continuing their march forward though the desert.

‘I thought it was strange...seeing all those dead monsters.’ They added, ‘It was so dusty...’

‘They sent us to our deaths... the Pharaoh did.’ Papyrus continued, mind spiralling darkly – did Sans know of this? It would make it easier to get him out of the way, did Sans want to take the throne by his self?

The other stole his dagger, was he going to slay the pharaoh or even his rival consort with it? When he couldn’t find it, Papyrus couldn’t stomach the idea of such a ploy – trying to laugh it off, convince himself that he misplaced the blade.  But it got a lot harder as the days passed.

‘If you are expecting me to feel bad and beg for forgiveness for my peoples crimes....’ Papyrus began lowly

‘I don’t want that, I never wanted that.’ The child responded, ‘ It’s kill or be killed in this world of ours...’ the child stared at a pack of vultures picking at a unfortunate camel lost to Seth’s sands – their own trusty beast grunted at the sight.

‘What is your plan exactly?’ Papyrus questioned the other, crimson eyes meeting his own briefly.

‘The closest town is controlled by monsters – they have a dock, but they have a no human policy...’

‘Not very fond of Halfling’s either.’ Papyrus added coldly.

‘But – I heard the Pharaoh buys them for entertainment that may be our ticket into the city; if we are with a slave trader...’

‘This is a dangerous game you are playing...’ Papyrus huffed, ‘I was the general to the pharaoh’s army – someone might recognise me.’ Then there would be the uncomfortable questions of where his men are.

‘You give others too much credit, besides; you don’t look like a dashing general anymore.’ The child taunted pointing to the others sandy and dirty clothes, ‘Besides, there is only so much natural healing you can do on your own without exerting yourself – you need a healer or your wounds will fester and putrefy.’  The humans then said, ‘It’s a place ripe for slave traders anyway, no questions asked.’

‘I don’t even know to act like an uncouth slave trader!’ Papyrus scowled at the human.

‘Just act like the grouchy, burnt, bastard you have been for the past three hours in this blazing heat – and we’ll be fine.’ The human snapped back, moving quicker and swearing in a mix of human and monster tongue.

Papyrus followed, with no other choice at hand.

* * *

 

Sans stood outside the door of Grillby’s room, the pained and heavy breathing was heard – Sans pushed open the door by the ornate handles, carved to look like a curling lotus coming out of the door, the smell of iron and ozone filled his nose as he stared stunned at the figure crumpled on the ground. Grillby was holding their stomach, and was losing magic freely – dripping on the floor; Grillby saw him though the tears streaming down their face, reaching out with a trembling hand.

‘Please...the baby is coming.’ .Grillby winced, ‘It hurts...’

‘...’ Sans had just stared, cold gaze falling on the pained figure - falling to the growing pile of magic.

‘Please... help me...’ Grillby pleaded again, looking at the pool of magic under him in distraught.

‘Don’t worry Grillby, your suffering will end soon’ Sans smiled calmly, ‘I will go get help...’

‘Please...’ Grillby pleaded again, eyes almost begging for the other to stay by his side – like before in fond memories of when Sans was younger and ill, Grillby  had stayed with him; before political gain was what drove the fire monster. Too weak to even crawl or move now, if the child lived – Grillby would pass on with the amount of magic lost, the other knew that then Sans would take care of the child as a bastard to the throne. And Sans would’ve, but something was broken in him now – he had become cold like his mother before him.

And all he saw in fount of him was a opportunity... to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.

Sans smiled, Grillby’s face fell though at the darkness in that gaze and the sharpness of that smile.

‘It will end, like how you ended Papyrus...’ Sans hissed lowly, slamming the door closed with his magic – a statue with a long metal spear was just what he needed, the staff of Anubis seemed fitting. Sans ripped it out with a flash of red magic and threaded it though the handles – bending it in place. The weak screaming sounded though the door – Sans stormed away, the others servants had been called into questioning on their links to the private military of Aten and were not expected to be back until later.

No one would be there until Grillby was gone from this world for good.

* * *

 

_Sans is done with all this shit - he is done._

_Please leave a kudos and comment._

 


	15. Chapter 15

* * *

Alphys directed the smaller monster to grind the herbs in a large mortar and pestle – Sans watched the child diligently follow the healers instructions with the utmost concentration. Sans lounged on a wide gilded chair, awaiting for the potion to be created – it seemed only a week ago when he sentenced Grillby to a painful end, Sans was a coward though and he wasn’t like Grillby at all...the startling realisation that the other would’ve done the same to him if given the chance caused the nugget of disgust to form in his stomach made him rush back to the door and remove the spear. Even more so when there was a part of him that wanted to leave it.

‘You did the right thing, Sans’ Alphys tutted, overcoming her fury at the royal when she examined the body of the fire monster eventually.

‘Did I?’ Sans asked distantly, the soft grinding of the stone against stone was calming to his reeling mind, ‘Grillby still passed taking his child with him...no matter my change of mind.’

‘He still would’ve passed on to the gods hands, without you or with your intervention – he was bleeding magic internally for a while now... the bruises on his body, the only people who are to blame for his death are either his father or Pharaoh.’

‘Sire...if I may be so bold to say, in the same situation the child of Aten would not return to help you.’ The child said politely, clenching the pestle a little tightly – did the child feel any compassion for the child and grandchildren of the temple that slaughtered his friends, Sans doubted it immensely but the child was still recovering and barely trusted anyone other than his new owners. Alphys and Undyne did not treat him as a slave though – treating him as an apprentice and even an adopted heir to Alphys’s healing arts.

‘What did Pharaoh say about it...?’ Alphys asked timidly.

‘Nothing much, he just acted like a problem had been dealt with... and went into his chambers ’ The Pharaohs indifference made Sans feel even more ill, Gaster had desired for years to have a entwined magic line – Helvetica had the possibility, but it didn’t bear fruit only to have Sans as a true heir for Gaster but with his mothers magic-line.  Gaster was obsessed with magic lines and creating a line closest to the gods, Grillby had been his second consort next to his former queen  Helvetica for as long as Sans was old enough to walk.

Alphys left the other to his thoughts turning to continue brewing the potion for the other to drink – the monster child had left the bubbling herbal mixture to the healer and crept closer to the lounging royal, looking curiously at the pained expression on the others  face and his swollen middle. He reached out a hand, placing it gentle on the others middle – feeling the twin heartbeats under his hand, Sans narrowed his eyes at the child but otherwise didn’t say anything to it.

‘My mother said the harsher they kick, the stronger they’ll be – she revelled at feeling them moving.’

‘Child, how did your mother die?’ Sans huffed, curiously turning to the other – ignoring the slight unease he had with the other touching his ecto skin, even Pharaoh knew better then to linger a hand on his consorts stomach.

‘She turned to dust after the birth of my younger sister – my sister followed 6 months later.’ The child said gloomily but in a stark matter of fact way, ‘But the chief consort is a descendent of the gods, if anyone can survive childbirth it will be you.’

‘I haven’t been in the favour of the gods for a long time, child.’ Sans said softly to the other, allowing the soft patting from the other – whether the child understood the chief consorts sadness wasn’t revealed but the soft humming of an old lullaby with the massages of small monster hands. Sans felt so old, but only still in his young adult years – he is so done with everything and he is going to reign in his father once and for all.

* * *

 

Papyrus stepped forward in the arid desert village – while close to the river it seemed they didn’t benefit from the regularly flooding Nile, they seemed they were a trading village with cracked mud buildings scattered around and a large well to bring up water for the travelling animals that regularly came to be traded in the city. Monsters walked around, all looking incredibly dusty and unclean – fur mattered and the pungent smell of sweat wafted by the former general and the humans on the camel back. Both Chara and Frisk watched warily, eyeing off a large boat anchored by the pier.

Papyrus had wrapped a dusty hooded robe around his body; a woven cloth used for the saddle of horses was barely noticeable to the other monsters state of dress – he fitted in, a little too well for the former generals comfort. Papyrus warily looked around the small village, pausing at the monsters leaning against certain doorways – all with come hither looks at the wary travellers, welcoming wealthy merchants to share their bed for the right amount of gold. Papyrus looked at the youngest out of them, a skeleton monster like him but more rounder then Sans and still with shining belief – like glittering stars in his sockets.

Papyrus tore his sockets from that skeleton, moving confidently though the stinking, rough and tough monsters and to the dock master. The grouchy looking rabbit looked up from his work to Papyrus and the others load, arching a brow at the two glaring children.

‘Yes?’ The blue rabbit questioned.

‘I am seeking passage to trade my goods in the main city.’ Papyrus snarled out, putting on a harsher tone.

‘Aren’t we all.’ The rabbit drawled, ‘Sorry mate, but the only one leaving now is his holiness.’

‘His holiness?’ Papyrus muttered out, watching the orange cat pick up crates and place them on the ornate boat – it certainly seemed to belong to someone important. The gold sun disk glinting on the sail arouse a deep concern in the tall skeleton.

‘Yes the high priest of Aten is collecting his shipment of goods...’ The rabbit gestured to the wooden cage filled with ragged looking humans, mostly children. Chara had a pinched expression on her face, Frisk held onto his sister tighter.

‘Why would the high priest want them...?’ Papyrus asked curiously.

‘Sacrifice of course! Gotta please the gods...’ The rabbit scratched his ear, flicking away a flea, ‘Not that I’m a religious man, but at least it’s them and not us...’

‘Yes, your right – humans are vermin’ Papyrus huffed out, glaring at his own passengers on the camel.

‘Ah, I see you have two slaves you want to trade too?’ The rabbit gestured to Chara and Frisk, grinning toothily, ‘I’m sure you’ll be able to trade most of your goods here rather than travelling to the big city...those swords are pretty nice, but it would raise a few questions on how you retrieved them.’ The rabbit pointed to his fallen soldiers swords.

‘My Father found them in the desert; he knows they will fetch a higher price in the city – as well as these humans.’ Papyrus lied coolly.

‘Father, eh?’ The cat narrowed his eyes, ‘ I know every trader in these parts...what’s your old man’s name?’ The blue rabbit and his cat companion stood up, reaching for their belt – a dagger. Papyrus stood his ground though, willing to fight them off with his bare fists if he had to. Both monsters eyes widened at behind Papyrus, bowing.

Papyrus smelt the burning incense of the others clothes first and felt the heat at his back before he turned.

‘Really, you should play nice – he is...new.’ A Fire monster in full temple get up stood proud and quite plump – his fire coloured purple with his servants holding a shade made from palm leaves above his head while the servant sweated under the heat above and from his master.

The Aten High priest stared transfixed at the two children, glittering eyes filling with greedy lust.

‘You have come across two great treasures haven’t you, my young friend?’ The high priest furrowed his brow and turned to Papyrus again, ‘I’m sorry, have we met?’

‘...No, my lord.’ Papyrus bowed trying not to grind his teeth at the man responsible for the death of his men, ‘I haven’t had the pleasure at seeing such a splendid monster before, but my Father spoke of you – he has traded slaves with you before and said you are a reasonable and good monster... perhaps you would appreciate these slaves as a gift to the great god Aten? ’

Papyrus offered the other, the rising panic in the humans eye met Papyrus's briefly – Papyrus didn't want this either but if this was the only ship leaving then they had to get on board.

‘Well then, your father seems like a lovely man!’ The high priest said charmed by Papyrus flattery, turning his gaze back at the cat and rabbit.

‘I shall be taking this young man in the morning with us to the capital, but our young friend must be tired and famished – he shall join us for supper.’ The high priest chortled a little, turning to his own servants and then back to Papyrus, ‘ Mr...?’

‘Bodoni’ Papyrus said the first name to come to mind.

‘Yes, take Bodoni’s slaves and lock them with the other humans.’ The High priest commanded.

Both Chara and Frisk were ripped off the camel’s back, hands had been tired as more of a show to their play – but this wasn’t part of the plan, with Chara snarling at Papyrus in human tongue she was dragged away roughly and Frisk followed his sister more subdued. Papyrus stared at the child’s small worried eyes; he tried not to look at them.

‘Try not and bruise the goods!’ Papyrus called after them. That seemed like something a slave trader would say – Chara spluttered more insults at them.

‘Of course, my lord.’ The servant bowed and softened their grasp on the children. Papyrus tried not to flinch at the heavy arm of the fire monster  around his shoulder – the old monster completely unaware of Papyrus’s true identity.

* * *

 

The night spiralled in feasting and idle chatter, but Papyrus found it hard to stomach the conversation as it wound down to bragging and chanting for  the chief consorts head – Papyrus wondered if Sans knew of the songs written about him, they were very cruel. Papyrus was left nursing his cup of wine – being filled almost constantly with every sip he took; the wine was sweet and heavy; sticking to the top of his palate.

The night dissolved in a wine filled haze, filled with the plump priest laughter and delight as the colourful dancers entered in – flurry of fabric fluttering like butterflies around the campsite fire and the physical fire monster clapping gleefully at the dancers, moving in erotic gyrates and rolls of hips.

Papyrus was not as drunk as the others at this drunken party full of with the scum of the earth – but he couldn’t stop the ire rise in him at the sight of the young skeleton monster being pulled into the high priests lap. The skeleton looked uncomfortable but used to the rough treatment – every flame licking kiss was met with a wince, the high priest noticed the darkness growing in Papyrus’s face.

‘My new friend is lonely, my little blue sapphire - tend to his needs for tonight will you?’

‘Of course, my lord.’ The skeleton nicknamed Blue sapphire bowed to the high priest and made their way towards the hidden general, hips swaying side to side. Papyrus stared at the other, the smaller skeleton a hand – Papyrus looked to the awaiting audience, knowing if he refused it would be taken as offence and the poor skeleton would be probably passed around the high priests friends.

Papyrus took the others hand much to the drunken howls around him - ignoring the burning glare of the Halflings he took, locked up till morning with other human children as they passed the cage. He was going to get an earful from his companions, but the drink in his system made it difficult to think about when he watched the skeleton in fount of him was swaying  their hips

* * *

 

He was taken to a simple mud hut, with sleeping mats and furs – Papyrus tried not to think how many monster had lain on the mats and having sex. Blue timidly moved forward, going to remove his companion’s hood only to be grasped by the others stronger hands stilling his moves to undress the other.

‘I’m sorry...’ Blue moved away, only to be pulled closer to the harder body of Papyrus’s robed figure – burns and cuts had healed mostly but still leaving scars.

‘Why are you here?’ Papyrus questioned the other making the other stare stunned and a little flushed – making Papyrus wonder if was  the only skeleton the other had seen for a long time.

‘What an odd question...’ Blue fumbled, no one asking him that before, ‘We were part of a nomad tribe, my brother and the other stronger monsters sent us here – when the fights ceased between a neighbouring tribe they were supposed to come and get us.’ Blue said, bright eyes dimming, ‘They didn’t come back.’

‘I’m sorry...’ Papyrus offered his condolences to the smaller skeleton – he looked to be only sixteen, pretty in his own way compared with Sans’s matured beauty and bone structure. Body rounded with a sky blue ecto body – impressive control of magic for someone his age, Papyrus stared a little entranced with the colour; wondering if the other forced himself to learn with the far more physical bodies of the other monsters around.

‘Which tribe are you from? I’ve never seen you around – I swear everyone comes through here...’ Blue hummed, happy to have someone to talk to rather than getting straight to business. Papyrus quickly changed the subject, lest more was revealed about his true identity.

‘What is your brother like?’

‘Lazy but kind...you kind of remind me of him.’ Blue said, blue hue making his cheekbones glow in the darkness of the hut – Papyrus noticed with partial drunken desire and most of how long has it been since he’s lain with another , dropping the others hand who slowly lowered it.

‘I’ve been with different types of monsters before... but never with a skeleton, how odd is that?’ He giggled, only to be pulled into the slightly drunk embrace of the disgraced general – clanking teeth against teeth.

The smaller skeletons hands wound quickly at the others kilt, undoing the knot and letting it drop on the ground – shamefully not taking any time to form his ruby red cock and harden under the others hand, it had been a long time since that time in the garden with Sans, the smaller skeleton took his time with exploring the others sex like a virgin seeing a manhood for the very first time.

Blue brushed his curious fingers against the bulbous head of the others cock – pressing against the slit, encouraged by the others moaning and groaning but stilling his hand when Papyrus's larger hand grabbed the others blue orb though the others thin clothes that he wore for dancing.

 Blue was pushed into the others chest with a low whine as he was groped, eye lights flaring in hearts for a moment as he was turned around, and was ground against by the crimson rod; rubbing against the cleft of his ectoplasm arse. Blue grinned a little deliriously, staring half lidded at the large hands holding his pelvis; blue member was becoming swollen and erect with the older monsters attention.

Papyrus pulled the smaller skeleton down on the sleeping mat gently, the faint smell of lilies by the others vertebrae was calming and reminding him of the fragrant royal gardens – ignoring the musty smell of sex on the mats was a little easier now as he pushed his hands under the almost sheer ankle length kilt, careful to slide the garment down those ectoplasm covered thighs. The small blue cock twitched in the cold night air – as aroused as the small skeleton had ever been with a client, his own arousal was not often cared for by the other monster, Papyrus licked a stripe up the others neck making the other mewl and then whine when the taller skeleton pulled away.

‘Do you have oil?’ Papyrus breathlessly requested, Blue with a trembling hand reach for a jar of scented oil – he often took the time to prepare himself each day, never know when a client would come in and request the services of Blue or the other owned whores. The merchant who had the most ships though here had put up the lost monsters as long as they could gain enough profit, same with entertaining his temple friends when they wanted to inspect and buy slaves. Blue was shifted under the larger frame of the other, arse in the air and face in the unclean furs – huffing excitedly when his garment was bunched by his knees and on full display for the burning gaze of the older skeleton.

Papyrus quickly grabbed the jar, dipping his hand in the viscous fluid and lubing up till his member was stiff and glistening, moving onto pressing a few digits inside the tight opening between the others cheeks, not needing to stretch the other for that long – finding the other lubed and moaning with each press was almost too much for the other.

Blue screaming into the furs when the others member finally breached him, hips being grabbed and being thrusted into shallowly and harshly – screams turning into low moans when one of the hand encircled the others sapphire coloured member and tugged it in time with his thrusts, rocking against the other in a constant movement. Blue began to pant under the others onslaught, moaning as the taller skeleton bent over him was grunting and breath hitching.

‘Sans...’Papyrus let out a low whine, being lost in his memories. The other pushed hard against the others willing body, Blue’s eyes widened at the whispering manta of a monster’s name - he felt a little sad but at the same time felt his mind shift to his own brother, feeling sockets begin to dampen but the pleasure racking his body was immense. His cock twitched and new lines of come hit the furs, whole body tightening and trembling in the aftershocks of his orgasm – tears freely falling down his skull now.

‘Sans, Sans, Sans, Sans....’ Papyrus groaned, pulling out at the last moment, cock pulsed against the cleft of the others round rump before ribbons of ruby red come decorated the others back. They rolled from one another, facing away and panting – it was Blue who closed the distance, curling his form around the other. The sound of the party continued loudly outside, but Papyrus curled an arm around the others slighter form – ignoring their splattered rugs and sleeping matts.

‘What was your name?’ Blue asked softly.

‘Bodoni...’ Papyrus lied again, but this time he felt horrid about it.

‘Well, Bodoni...’ Blue began with a sad smile, ‘Sans is very lucky to have you.’

The smaller skeleton fell into a sleep soon after he said that, leaving Papyrus to stare at the cracks in the mud brick ceiling. Unaware that the one he was thinking of was staring up at the ceiling too, thinking of him.

* * *

 

please leave a comment and kudos 

 


	16. Chapter 16

 

* * *

Chara sat crouched in the cramp confines of the cage with Frisk by her side, the other miserable humans caught wondering astray by the slave traders had kept their distance from the taboo creatures that sat in the same cage as them - like they believed they were diseased or cursed. It suited Chara just fine – her crimson eyes blazed furiously, when she got out of the cage she was going to kill that skeleton.

Night had fallen in the camp and it was becoming the early hours of the morning  – the swish of the tents entrance as a smaller skeleton monster poked their head out, the camels stirring where they were tired up but fell back to sleep. The monster of pleasure crept though the night to the fat high priest tent of all places.

‘Are you still eager for a romp?’ Chara called out distastefully, ‘The whole camp could hear you two.’ the skeleton turned and shushed her harshly. The gleaming blue eyes that were once filled with kindness and patience, though both would’ve bled away though the years at being stuck in this servitude.

Frisk was the one who slapped a hand over his sister’s loud mouth and gestured wildly at the other tents, probably full of monsters that if woken up would do more harm than this small skeleton – Blue stepped closer and stared at the frightened humans, none of them could understand him so he turned to Chara who stared at him, no trust in those odd crimson eyes .

‘Keep them quiet, no matter what you hear – tell them to be silent if they want to be free.’ Blue whispered out, quickly turning and continuing on his way to the largest tent set up. Chara arched a brow at that demand and watched the tent consume the other monster- Frisk removed his hand away from his sisters’ mouth, staring with confused eyes at the smaller monster.

It was Frisk who muttered quietly to the other humans,

‘I think he wants to help us.’

This seemed to calm them down, but still they cast a wary glance at the crimson eyed girl that seemed to be constantly fuming.

Chara shook her head at that; leave it to her little brother – forever the optimist. It was perhaps a half an hour later before Papyrus emerged too, but with a dark look and a sword drawn; following the others path into the high priests tent.

The muffled sounds of a scuffle were heard inside the tent – stilling and falling silent, Blue exited quickly with the metal keys dangling in his clenched hand. He rushed forward to the cage and began to open the lock with a click, the heavy iron lock fell to the floor with a soft thud -  the other captives wasted no time to escape but they weren’t really needed, Chara and Frisk left more comfortably.

‘What about the high priest?’ Chara huffed, only just noticing how the small skeletons hands trembled and were slightly dusted with some burns – the other seemed to be dazed as he answered her,  ‘I was able to distract him enough for...’

Blue didn’t elaborate on what exactly happened, but Chara wasn’t going to ask him about it - respect for the other increased though. The expression on Papyrus face when he exited was incredibly stiff but he joined the group by his side, to be embraced by the trembling skeleton.

‘Bodoni, please come with me – we can have a happy life together.’ Blue pleaded with the other, Papyrus expression shifted to guilt again – stoking the others face. Chara’s eyes widened at the different name – shooting the tall skeleton a sidelong look.

‘I’m sorry...but I can’t.’ Papyrus gently pushed the other away.

Blue smiled sadly at that and then asked,

‘Before you leave for the capital – can I know your true name?’

‘How did you know?’ Papyrus asked, feeling certain he didn’t let that slip.

‘Let’s just say clients don’t really like telling me their real name...’ Blue said sadly, ' But It was a good guess.'

‘My name is Papyrus, general of the royal army.’ Papyrus said, adding his title - though he didn't officially have it anymore.

‘Well, you have your life waiting for you then.’ Blue turned away, keen to leave before the rest of the encampment woke up – murderers were not treated kindly in the desert. Papyrus grabbed him gently,

‘Come with us.’ Papyrus asked, echoing the same request back to Blue - Papyrus knew the other would be dead set on searching for his own brother though, the chances were that he had been killed in an confrontation. 

Blue looked for a moment  want to agree but his expression darkened and so he pulled away,

‘You're kind, but would your Sans put up with me – the tales of the chief consort have travelled though the lands like wildfire.’

‘...’ Papyrus did not say anything to that so Blue continued,

‘We seem to both have dangerous bedfellows –the high priest was going to receive this message.’ Blue pulled out a letter he had stashed away, it hadn’t been read but it was obviously sent from the palace. Papyrus took it from his hands, feeling his use was finally up he gave the group some space.

Papyrus broke the seal, eyes narrowing – it was to alert the high priests son had fallen and the child had fallen with him,  along with a planned siege on the palace to finally kill  Sans.

Papyrus scrunched the paper in agitation. He had no idea on what the welcome he would get back at the palace – it seemed it was going to be a surprise, Chara frowned at the others expression.

‘Come let’s leave before the others wake up.’ Papyrus said stiffly, making his way quickly to the boat – the two half humans followed wordlessly not without noticing Blue jumping on the camel they came on in and quickly leaving.

The animal kicked up some sand as it let out a low grunt – running off into the desert and not looking back as the sun slowly raised, black blue sky beginning to lighten. As Papyrus, Chara and Frisk pulled away the river bed on the stolen boat – watching the land shift and move, light shifting and the figure on the camel finally disappeared in between the dunes.

* * *

 

The whirlwind of fury that blew around the palace was the instability of the pharaoh storming though the long hallways – clothes splattered with blood from his morning hunt near the river, his aides followed him trying to placate him; his other hand had an odd looking straw and wheat doll made into the likeness of his chief consort. Fertility had returned to the lands, and the farmers were very thankful – not to the pharaoh, but to his very pregnant chief consort.

The new life growing around them had given the common people more confidence and more people were able to move on with their lives even with the rogue temples targeting people – if they stand united there is very little the soldiers of Aten could do to them.

Before his aides could stop him and remind him that he only has one consort left, and he cannot afford to lose two possible chances of two strong magical cores growing inside Sans, but he still barges into his consorts chambers - bringing everyone to a halt in their duties, Bast had let out a low hiss at him from her cushion. The cat tried to swipe at him but was quickly knocked away a little too harshly, the cat staggered to stand but was mostly unharmed as it ran out of there.

Sans was lounging in the garden with his servants fanning him in the heat of the day – dressed in a black beaded getup with a thin robe barely covering his bump. Sans looked up to his furious pharaoh – who flung the effigy at his consorts feet;   Sans barely glanced  at the fertility idol that the farmers sometimes built in the likeness of various gods and goddesses who they wish to give thanks to. It was obvious why Gaster was in a state, the fertility idol looked a lot like Sans – shaped even with his now rounded stomach.

‘Oh.’ Sans tilted his head, ‘Is that what you’re upset about?’

‘Ungrateful peasants – this disrespect will not go forgotten.’ Gaster sneered. It took every fibre in Sans’s body to not sigh in annoyance.

‘My love.’ Sans purred lowly at the other, ‘Without those peasants we would not have food for your children.’

‘That is not all I’m frustrated with...’ Gaster growled lowly, looking at Sans like he wanted to eat him – Sans has gone completely beyond even bothering with showing disgust by now, Gaster had pretty much avoided him during the season that the drought broke, allowing Sans some alone time; the whole palace could sense a shift in the chief consorts mental state. All remaining supporters of Aten in the palace were called before the pharaoh, because the chief consort demanded their heads and would not be appeased by anything else.

This type of behaviour didn’t go unnoticed by the common monsters, and the calls for the removal of Gaster had only increased – Gaster had even given up of trying appeasing his people, sulking like the child he was leaving Sans to take more duties. Gaster perhaps wanted his consorts’ new feeling of independence and immunity given to him with the growing life in his belly to be crushed, maybe when Sans failed he would run back crying to Gaster.

Shame the people felt that Sans was doing a better job at keeping the country together, while pregnant, than the grumpy and aged Pharaoh.

Sans pulled his self-up slowly and as he was carrying a huge weight – gestured for his servants to leave but finding the stony expressions of them to refuse that order, oddly loyal and refusing to leave the less mobile and more vulnerable  alone with the known aggressive pharaoh. But if this did indeed turn sour, Sans doubted the servants could fight off the Pharaoh to protect him but they would be able to run for help.

Sans didn’t show how the situation scared him, Gaster no longer having the support of Grillby on his ideas and a support for his stupid ones left the older monster more irate than usual.

‘I understand your frustration...’ Sans began, the pharaoh had wished to lay with Sans but thankfully the healers had forbidden it - Sans had thought the other would succumb to one of the servants but it seemed they all tried not to stay too long alone with him or stayed in a group of two or three while around the irate pharaoh.

‘You resented sharing my bed, just like your mother...’ Gaster began dangerously, ‘You always resented me.’ Gaster took another step forward, Sans narrowed his eyes at how the other tried to intimidate him.

‘I have tried to be patient with you, I showered you with affection – I have done everything I needed to do, you were not to want of anything.’ Gaster continued, voice rising in frustration. Sans’s servants moved slightly in fount of the chief consort – Gaster smirked at the feeble protection  they offered but he would give credit where credit was due, it was brave of them to stand up to him.

‘Did you ever care for me?’ Gaster finally asked the question he had always feared the answer of and ignored.

Sans’s expression went stony, all forced niceness bled out – no longer needed anymore, no more need to force it.

‘I did once, but that was a very long time ago – I only hold hate for you now.’ Sans spoke honestly, and it seemed too much for Gaster. He looked so close to tears, his fist clenched closed and trembled in his silent rage.

‘You are forbidden from leaving the palace and once the children are born – you are to give up your birthright if you wish for them to carry onto as heirs to the throne. After that, you are dead to me.’ Gaster said lowly to Sans.

Sans felt his face twitch but then snap back just as coldly,

‘Very well, I never wanted this life anyway.’ Sans turned away from Gaster, ‘This is my private chambers, this has no longer room for you.’

‘The moment the children are born, I will throw you to the harshness of the world Sans...’ Gaster sneered, yet again wanting the other to tearfully beg the other for him to allow him to stay – but he wasn’t going to get what he wanted anymore.

‘I look forward to it, my pharaoh.’ Sans sneered back, Gaster turned on his heel just as furious as he entered and the servants all seemed to exhale at the same time. When the Pharaoh finally left was when Sans picked up the bottle of perfume and throw it against the wall in his fury.

* * *

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

* * *

When the ship came into dock, Papyrus was not sure what he was expecting to see – but the sight really did chill him to the bone.

The houses around the dock, some were damaged or even abandoned; the sign of Aten had been marked all around him and all the monsters that wondered though the streets looked wary and downtrodden. Papyrus fixed his cloak to cover his identity again – while there was no active sign of the rogue military of the temple of the Sun disk, it was best to be cautious around his once thriving home.

Both Chara and Frisk were covered up too, wearing the oversized monster robes that were stored on the ship - fine fabric and designs, surely the clothes for the Aten high priest or something the fire monster was going to sell in the main city to further his own wealth.  Both children were looking around the monster city in a mix of interest and curiosity – their human appearance going  mostly unnoticed by the depressed dock population who, like everyone else was trying to keep their face down and out of trouble. 

A lot of fisherman trying to sell their goods before the heat of the day ruins their fish; some even beginning the long process of preserving the remaining stock of food. Barterers were bellowing what their wares and goods were, but the usual bustle of the dockside marketplace felt dead.

The once standing tall statue of the Pharaoh in the square, had been badly damaged with vandalism and disrespect – the standing statue next to the heretic pharaoh looked better maintained and respected by the common people, the shorter and stony expression of a statue of Sans. Papyrus stared up at the royal pair, mostly at Sans – wreaths of flowers ranging from freshly placed and ones that had been dried out in the hot sun.

He felt annoyed at the sight of flowers and the obvious worship of the other - what had changed for the small chief consort to gain the common peoples respect.

Papyrus hand clenched tighter at the obvious talismans to Hathor – the goddess of fertility, the cow headed statue next to the very pregnant looking Tawaret carved from either bone or ivory. Ah, it seemed the other bought the people an heir to the kingdom.

“So it seems the chief consort has been busy...” The very sentence filled the general’s mouth with a bitter taste, anger and the scorching heat of hate that had been steadily building with every step he took on the sandy bank – he saw movement at the corner of his eye and went to quickly follow it, the hobbling figure seemed to trying to quickly get somewhere.

When the other went down the alleyway was when Papyrus and Chara moved to strike, like a pair of desert starved jackals – they pinned him, Frisk looked alarmed but knew better then to raise the alarm. Frisk rushed forward to the others, keeping out of the way – keeping an eye out for any wondering monsters or guards.

Papyrus pressed his arm into the others throat, making the monster gag and heave.

“Please – I don’t have any money!” The monster gasped out, Papyrus’s sockets widened at the familiar wheezing immediately letting the other go.

“Gerson?” Papyrus muttered, making the old turtle blink up at his attacker – face morphing into one of disbelief and then happiness.

“General...” Gerson began, looking like he was beginning to tear up – leaving Chara looking between them with narrowed eyes and Frisk looking happy that no one was hurt.

* * *

 

“We thought you were killed...” Gerson began softly, “When we had heard back from the troops, we thought the most experienced troops had died along with you.”

“Sadly, I was the only one to survive.” Papyrus admitted stiffly.

“I see.” Gerson stroked his bearded, reptilian chin – looking towards the two children, Chara glared back, “And you’ve picked up some strays too.”

“Who are you calling a stray?!” Chara snarled back, the turtle looked taken aback by her tone.

“It speaks – Papyrus?” Gerson questioned the skeleton, who shrugged while drinking a bowl of beer that had been offered by the simple monster. Service to the former pharaohs did not seem to do much for the turtle, he was fortunate that the current pharaoh didn’t destroy the monster like he destroyed most of the once thriving monster city.

“I didn’t teach her, I can’t make her shut up most of the time.” Papyrus drawled, Chara looked like she was going to snap back at him.  She stood up in the hut, muttering in her harsh human tongue, taking the former generals bowl of beer, and choosing to go to her brother instead of entering a war of words with the older monsters. Frisk had decided to take a nap on a mat – he was snoozing without a care in the world, like he wasn’t in a monster only city.

"There village had been destroyed by followers of Aten - burned to the ground." Papyrus said, "It was a trap to ensnare us."

"Attacking their own kind..." Gerson tutted.

The old turtle had after the odd confrontation had brought them to his simple house, mindful of the windows and door frame cut from the mud brick – while he did have some screens and beaded curtains for privacy but he didn’t practically want anyone to wonder past and see his unusual guests.

“I’m sad to hear of the lives lost...” Gerson bowed his head, “You shouldn’t blame yourself for this horrid state of affairs -”

“I have never blamed myself – I have always blamed the Pharaoh and his false idols...” Papyrus growled out, "He has no temple to hide behind anymore."

“And you should – it just will mean we have to take it slow and easy, we will gain enough soldiers again to stage a coup...”

“We have waited enough Gerson – we will take the palace in the next two nights.” Papyrus said harshly

“...” Gerson seemed to gape like a fish at such a remark.

“ A coup sounds fun.” Chara chortled out, sipping the stolen beer happily – Papyrus wondered if the other had drunk it before.

“The chief consort is expected to go into labour this coming week however...” Gerson finally found his voice, only to have Papyrus’s expression harden further at that.

“In two nights, Gaster and his kin will be removed from the throne.”

Gerson raised his bowl of beer sombrely,

“Then so be it.”

Chara raised her bowl and giggled out a cheer as well.

* * *

Alphys sat by the heavily pregnant skeleton – wearily looking between Undyne, who was in turn glaring at the armed guards, and to the ill looking skeleton.

“Are you certain you haven’t seen any magic spotting or anything of the sorts?” Alphys asked for the hundredth time, "If there is a lot i'll have to examine you.

“Alphys, I am certain - I would’ve let you known otherwise.” Sans said a little frustrated, Undyne moved forward – laying a wet cloth on the others sweat drenched skull.

Sans looked tired, not just from the heavy duty of carrying twins to term but with the heavy weight of regret and loss. Sans had found himself staring at the wall of his chambers, he had the doors to the gardens sealed – though the servants assumed it was a precaution to the weak skeletons health but it was honestly to stop the memories of the fallen general, lost brother and father of his children.

Also after the children are born, the loss of titles and inheritance did put a damper on things as well as they will grow up in a wet-nurses arms and not in Sans’s.

Which explained the odd house arrest the pharaoh had placed on Sans – so the other wouldn’t try and escape, again. But now he was too damn big to even leave his bed most of the time and he was expecting twins, lively little parasites that like taking all the magic for themselves.

Both Alphys and Undyne had been taken pretty much taken hostage by the pharaoh, till the children were born and healthy – surely a way to make sure that neither of chief consorts friends tried to do anything. The monster child under their care was able to get away it seemed, or so the healers hoped.  

The whole court seemed to be stepping on eggshells around the irate Pharaoh too, becoming more and more unhinged by the passing day. Sans really couldn’t stand the idea of his and papyrus’s children ending up under the care of the pharaoh – both Undyne and Alphys agreed with him, they had begun to plan their own plan of attack. A few of the servants are willing to help their attack on the Pharaoh – they had families destroyed by the pharaoh’s and Grillby’s ploy, it was easy to request assistance.

They were to escape in the coming nights – pray to the gods that the restless children in his belly could wait a little while longer, take a barge to the marble city ruled over King Asgore and his Queen. Both a former ally to his mother and grandmother, and no friend to the current Pharaoh at all – both had a fondness of children and would welcome him into their home. Sans closed his sockets tiredly, resting his hands on his belly, and just wishing for happiness and a final end to this suffering.

* * *

 Papyrus stared at the monsters that Gerson was able to gather at such short notice, teens, mothers and wives all sat in the cramped mud brick house. All victims of the Pharaoh’s bloody reign – losing fathers, brothers and children to the suicidal battle they were sent into.

While few and untrained, they did make up for it with their raw rage and fury – equal to Papyrus’s own. The Pharaoh is nearing his end, an end of his own making – the chief consort...Papyrus paused at the thought, but hardened his mind to the idea that the other might have to join his father to end this bloody rule. Chara had left Frisk with the monster children too young to fight, leaving with the mob of monsters to take revenge for their village - it just felt like something she had to do.

* * *

 The guard’s had been easily drugged by an overly friendly servant while serving them wine during another pointless feasts – both Alphys and Undyne had pulled the skeleton to his feet and began to quickly make their way out of the Palace with a few servants leading the way in the dead of the night.

* * *

 Papyrus and his band of usurpers made quick and silent work on the guards, hardly  any trouble with the poor training they received by Papyrus’s sub par replacement – some even recognising Papyrus and dropping their spears and swords so not to be run though by the furious mob led by the general.

Papyrus and the group made their way through the gates confidently – like the true Pharaoh returning from a long battle. Those loyal to Gaster, though few, were quick to run away like the cowards they were.  Chara took a few kills for herself, taking fiendish delight at how they tried to run away from her and her oddness.

* * *

 “Where do you think you’re going?” Gaster drawled out in the long corridor – sword drawn and ready, Alphys and Undyne turned to look at the furious pharaoh;  Sans waddled over to the wall to support himself, clutching his stomach in pain. The small group of servants followed the pained skeleton, helping to support the other and act as a feeble shield.

“You should be knocked out like the others.” Sans huffed and wheezed.

“Oh Sans, did you think that trick would work on me?” Gaster laughed, “You are your mother’s son after all.” Gaster continued his slow walk towards the group. They refused to back down however, sticking to their stance.

“Yes, you never learn from your mistakes.” Sans smirked back, but flinching in pain.

“Yeah, Helvetica had been able to pull a few tricks on you.” Undyne said lowly.

“Foolish monster, that’s what she used to call you.” Alphys added, watching the Pharaoh bristle at that – hand tensing around the handle of his sword.

“It seems that I have not dealt with traitors and betrayers as I should’ve a long time ago...”Gaster growled out, raising his sword.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Another voice snapped out, making Gaster to spin quickly around only to be impaled by his former general’s sword. Mouth gaping wordlessly, stunned at the sight of Papyrus – sockets becoming dark though the final name uttered was not Papyrus’s,

“Arial...” Gaster gasped, as the other cruelly twisted the blade and then removed it – as the others form crumpled, Papyrus turned his dark and still fury bound sockets to the slumping figure by the wall.

“Papyrus...” Sans  whispered happily, the generals followers spreading out with weapons raised, tears at the corner of his sockets as his body was slowly going numb – the sensation of his water breaking, the panicked voices and the hurried steps of Papyrus towards him was the last thing Sans felt and heard before blacking out. All the rage Papyrus felt for the consort had ebbed away at the sight of the others limp body - dropping his dusty sword and moving forward to lift the smaller skeleton into his arms gently.

"Quickly, we must take him to the birthing pavilion!" Alphys explained about to turn away only to add, "Congratulations my pharaoh, you are going to be a father."

"Make sure he lives." Papyrus rasped out, sockets full of emotion as he followed the healer quickly - the common people looked amongst themselves, some mothers stepped forward to help too. Leaving the slaughter of those still loyal to the former pharaoh in the hands of the red marked Chara.

* * *

   _Sans found he staring at the crack in his pelvis, his own battle scars of the whole ordeal – touching them gently. He was sitting on the garden bench in his now shared chambers of the new pharaoh – a request that they will no longer sleep apart was unheard of but no one would bring it up to the new pharaoh. It took awhile for normality to return to the land but they were assisted by a fertile crop, Sans stared wistfully at the faint scars on his pelvis again._

_Those blessed with twins did not usually live, but if they did, they were only to have those children in their lifetime. He was no longer able to bring life into this world, and felt like broken goods._

_“I told you, you shouldn’t think about that.” A voice chided, wrapping his arms around Sans’s slight frame._

_“But what if you wish to have more children.” Sans asked, turning to Papyrus who smiled at the smaller skeleton._

_“We have a little princess and a little prince – I am content.” Papyrus said honestly, but Sans turned away._

_“The advisers say you should take a second consort.” Sans began hollowly, only to have his be skull turned gently to the scarred skull of his new brother husband._

_“No, I don’t want another one – can barely handle my chief consort.” Papyrus smirked at the other, who pouted._

_“C’mon, it is Bodoni’s and Aharnoni’s fifth birthday – be happy.” Papyrus pleaded for the other._

_“I am happy.” Sans huffed, “Can you promise me something.”_

_“Yes?” Papyrus said patiently, patience was an emotion that only Sans could pull from the stiff head of state._

_“Promise you won’t grow tired or weary of me.” Sans asked of the other._

_“We shall sit together in life, ruling over the city, we shall then lie together in death, journeying to the afterlife.” Papyrus said simply, Sans smiled – that was enough for him, taking the others hand and leading him out to where their children waited with holding hands._

* * *

 

Fin.

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